Aperio--Remastered
by MissLindaLee
Summary: When Linda gets attacked by a group of unknown assailants with kryptonite, Clark turns to the only person he trusts to find those responsible: Bruce Wayne. But the investigation takes some interesting turns that even the Dark Knight couldn't predict. (Sixth story in the remastered Angelica Corsusca series)
1. Chapter 1

Linda hummed to herself as she packed the last of her books into her locker, grinning. It had been a great day—she had gotten a one hundred on her history test, Mrs. Patterson gave her high marks on her latest piece, and she had even managed to do the rope climb in gym in an acceptable time (though Linda would have preferred **not** having to force herself to climb at a 'normal' pace.) Even lunch had been enjoyable, with Linda and Dick—and the rest of their friends—carry on a normal conversation without it feeling awkward; it had only taken about a month for it not to feel awkward, and Linda had to admit she was actually enjoying just having friends without the complications of a relationship.

"Someone's in a good mood."

Linda grinned wider as she looked to her side and saw Gar leaning against the lockers next to her, smiling. "Hey, Gar, how's it going?"

"Not as well as you, apparently," Gar replied, amused.

Linda shrugged as she shut her locker, still smiling. "What can I say?" she asked. "I've had a good day." She glanced at the clock on the nearby wall. "And I need to hurry up and get home."

"Ooh, that's right," Gar said, "you have guests." He raised an eyebrow, grinning.

"Will you stop that?" Linda replied, smiling. "I already said I have no intention of pursuing anything more than a friendship with him."

"He's rich," Gar said, "he's your age, he's rich, he's handsome, he's rich, he's pretty athletic, he's rich, he's single…did I mention he's rich?

Linda chuckled as shook her head. "Anyway," she said, "I need to get going. They should be there by the time I get home. See you later." She slung her backpack on her shoulder before heading off down the hall; Gar just watched her, still smiling.

"Here, let me get that," Jonathan said, reaching for a suitcase in the trunk.

"Sir, with all due respect," the elder gentleman in the butler's uniform said, "I can get those, sir."

"Alfred, you're our guest," Jonathan replied. He reached for the suitcase again, but Alfred grabbed it first.

"I realize that, sir," Alfred said, "but I do have my duties." He picked up the suitcase and headed towards the farmhouse.

Clark had been watching the exchange with amusement as he leaned against the porch rail; he waited until Alfred headed into the house, followed by Jonathan, before he glanced to his side. Standing Beside him, also leaning against the porch rail, was a teenage boy with dark brown hair styled in a slightly spiky manner; he wore a dark green polo shirt, khaki slacks, and loafers; he grinned back at Clark.

"You know Alfred's going to try taking over the kitchen again," the boy said.

"I think my mom's prepared this time, Dick," Clark replied. He glanced over his shoulder at the dark-haired man leaning against the house near the door; he wore a charcoal suit and a bored expression.

"Please, Bruce, tone it down," Clark said as he stood up. "You're getting too excited."

"Uh huh," Bruce replied, unwavering. "When's your cousin supposed to be here?"

"When she gets here," Clark replied calmly, trying not to look irked. "Why?" Bruce shrugged, but didn't answer, and Clark sighed. "Dick, why don't you go check out the barn? Linda's done a little redecorating in the loft."

Dick sighed and rolled his eyes. "Which is code for 'the adults need to talk,'" he said as he headed down the porch and trotted out to the barn.

Clark waited until Dick and disappeared inside before he turned to the businessman. "Bruce, she's my cousin. Why can't you just accept that she's not dangerous?"

"Anyone's dangerous under the right circumstances, Clark," Bruce replied. "You of all people should know that."

Clark looked like he was going to protest, but he sighed. "She's just a teenager, Bruce," he said.

"A Kryptonian teenager," Bruce corrected, "with her powers emerging at a faster rate than yours did—not to mention having other abilities that **you** don't."

"You're still bothered by the fact she erased some people's minds," Clark said.

"I'm still bothered by the fact that you **aren't** ," Bruce replied.

"She did it to protect our identities," Clark said. "It's not like J'onn hasn't done the same thing before."

"And what about her father?" Bruce asked.

Clark sighed. "Here we go again," he muttered.

"She said her father was a scientist," Bruce replied, ignoring Clark's remark, "but he was able to take you both on with little effort; that takes major training and discipline—not something you learn in a lab."

"He was a psycho with dictatorial ambitions," Clark said, "and—in case you've forgotten—Linda came here so he wouldn't kill her; her only friend gave his life so she could live."

"And I commend his nobility," Bruce replied, "but did you ever stop and think about what the ramifications of coming from that type of life might have on a person's psyche? I have, to regular, everyday people, and everything seemed fine—until they snapped one day. Put that situation in a teenager with powerful abilities, and you tell me you don't see the potential danger that poses."

"I'm not completely naïve," Clark replied, "that's why she's here. She's around people who love her, learning to control her abilities in an environment where she feels safe and secure." He locked eyes with Bruce, his expression serious. "And like I said to both you and Diana two months ago: I'll be **damned** if anyone tries to take her away from me."

Bruce knew Clark was serious, and what he was capable of; the businessman respected that protectiveness—even if he'd never admit it—but he still wasn't convinced. "And like we said two months ago," he said, "we have no plans of taking her away—but you did agree to let us monitor things objectively."

"I still don't see why Diana couldn't have been the one visiting," Clark said.

"Because she didn't already have business in Smallville," Bruce replied. "I do."

"And you still haven't told me what that is," Clark said.

"Sorry, Clark," Bruce replied, "that's nothing you need to worry about."

Clark raised an eyebrow, but he decided not to say anything as he stared across the farm at the barn.

Linda walked down the steps and into the parking lot of the high school. Everyone had left for the day, so the lot was deserted, which suited the teenager just fine. She had just gripped the strap on her backpack and was about to blur away when she suddenly felt sick to her stomach. Her knees started shaking, and her body felt like it was burning from the inside out. She felt a tap on her shoulder, and she slowly turned her head. She saw a flash of green as something hard slam into her face.

Linda fell on her back on the hard concrete, groaning, as her nose throbbed, blood pouring down into her face; she spit and coughed, gagging slightly on the coppery taste, as she opened her eyes. Her glasses had been knocked off and everything was little blurry as she looked up. She barely had time to register the three people standing over her before the person in the center leaned over. The teenager barely saw the green glowing rock in the person's hand before it slammed hard at Linda's face once more.

(End of Chapter 1)


	2. Chapter 2

Linda's body was on fire as she opened her eyes and saw everything bathed in a nauseating green glow; it didn't take her long to realize she was in the trunk of a car as she reached down and felt a large stone on her chest. The teenager looked down and recognized the kryptonite taped to her, even though she'd never seen any before; it was the size of a baseball but felt much heavier. Linda grasped the rock as tightly as she could and tried to pull it off, but she had no strength; her arm flopped limply to her side as she panted. She tried to focus her x-ray vision, but she couldn't even squint without feeling like she was going to throw up. Tears formed in her eyes as the fear built up inside her, but she willed herself to keep it together as she closed her eyes and tried to focus on Clark.

The car suddenly braked, causing Linda to be thrown forward like a limp ragdoll, breaking her concentration. She couldn't even raise her head as the trunk opened, and she blinked repeatedly at the bright sunlight. She slowly opened her eyes and saw three people looking down at her, but their backs were to the sun, their features hidden by shadows. They said nothing as they pulled her out and dragged her away from the car; in a few seconds, they reached a metal rail, and Linda finally knew where they were: the Loeb Bridge over Elbow River. She tried fighting or struggling, but she could barely keep her eyes open as the trio lifted her up and dumped her over the rail.

As Linda fell, she could have sworn she heard a loud shrill, almost like a scream, a second before she hit the murky water with a sickening splash. She held her breath as she sunk below the surface, trying to swim, but she lacked both the strength and experience. When her feet hit the muddy bottom, a loud splash above her caused her to look up; as her vision grew dark, she saw a large object swimming toward her.

[Clark, please help me!]

* * *

Dick carefully explored the loft, looking at all the new additions since he'd last been there. Between the purple, silver, and white quilt over the couch; the strings of soft white lights draped over the bookcases, and a few vases filled with fake flowers, the teenager could **definitely** feel the feminine vibe, but what really caught his attention were the two paintings on separate easels and a sculpture near the desk: the first one was a landscape of the Kent Farm on the lower half, with a couple dancing on feathers. The girl was painted in fire flames, while the boy was done in icy flames; Dick raised his eyebrow and smirked a little when he saw the small T.A.R.D.I.S. in the upper corner, almost hidden by the blue ribbon attached to it. He shook his head a little as he looked at the other painting: a watercolor of a Great Horned Owl. The sculpture appeared to be a life-sized rendition of a hawk with its wings spread, but a closer look showed the bird made entirely of flames; the word 'The Phoenix' was carved into the base.

Dick whistled softly. "Very nice," he said softly, impressed. A little bark drew him back into reality, and he looked down. Krypto sat at his feet, looking up at him with big brown eyes. Streaky said beside the puppy, and she meowed once before pawing at Dick's leg. "Oh, hey there." Dick said as he leaned over and scratched the puppy behind the ears; Krypto thumped his tail loudly, whining softly. The cat meowed loudly as she got under his arm, nudging it off Krypto; Dick smiled as he started petting her. "Oh, I'm sorry I ignored you." He carefully knelt down, still petting Streaky, who began purring, letting him know he was forgiven. Krypto jumped up, trying to lick his face, and but he landed right on Streaky. The kitten hissed loudly and smacked him with one of her paws before running off; Krypto barked loudly before chasing after her, his tail wagging.

"Okay," Dick chuckled as he slowly got to his feet. He sighed and slowly got to his feet, continuing to look around the loft.

* * *

Inside the kitchen, the five adults sat around the table, drinking coffee, talking about different things. Alfred kept trying to make sure everyone's mug was filled, but Martha finally put her foot down and ordered Alfred to sit down; when Alfred protested, Martha quickly persuaded him with letting him help her make dinner in exchange for sitting with them. The offer was too tempting to refuse, and Alfred took his place at the table.

"So, how are things in Gotham, Bruce?" Jonathan.

"Just how they've always been," Bruce answered. He wasn't big on small talk, but he tried to humor the Kents whenever he visited; he would never admit it to anyone, but he had a lot of respect for the Kents. He glanced at Clark, raising an eyebrow, his corners turned up a little. "The offer still stands if you want any pointers, Clark."

"No thanks, Bruce," Clark said, smiling. He and Bruce had different methods in dealing with criminals, and—while they didn't always agree on each other's methods—they did respect them and each other.

Martha looked at the clock on the wall and raised an eyebrow. "I wonder where Linda is," she said as she got up to get more cream from the fridge. "We told her you and Dick were coming today, and she said she'd be home right after school."

"She's probably at the Talon with her friends," Clark joked as he glanced at Bruce. "Or maybe she got scared of—"

[Clark, please help me!]

Clark dropped his mug as he got to his feet, his head resonating with the fearful voice of his cousin; the mug fell to the floor and smashed into several pieces.

"Clark, what's wrong?" Jonathan asked, concerned.

"It's Linda," Clark replied seriously; he looked over at his father, his eyes full of fear. "She's in trouble." Before anyone could say anything, Clark blurred out of the house; they heard the whoosh and small sonic boom a second later.

* * *

Superman soared over Smallville, scanning the world below him with his telescopic vision, X-ray vision…nothing. He finally stopped and hovered in place, closing his eyes, focusing his mind. He furrowed his eyebrows when he saw the blurry image of murky water and a blurred image of what appeared to be a bridge. Superman opened his eyes, knowing exactly where his cousin was; he quickly zoomed off, heading south. When he was over the Elbow River he dove down toward the water. He was about thirty feet from the surface when something broke through the surface near the bank; Superman quickly stopped, hovering in shock at what he saw.

A large saltwater crocodile—easily fifteen feet in length—backed slowly out of the water, effortlessly dragging Linda out by her shirt, delicately grasping the fabric in its front teeth. The teenager was unconscious, her head lolling to the side, and Superman saw the deep purple bruise across her nose, blood trickling from her nostrils, but what really drew his attention was the large piece of kryptonite taped to the front of her shirt.

The hero quickly landed on the bank about twenty feet away from the crocodile as it finished dragging Linda out of the water. He started to approach, but after a few feet he started to feel nauseous and weak in the knees; he groaned softly, but he knew he had to get to his cousin.

The crocodile suddenly whipped around, facing him, hissing loudly, mouth open. Superman stopped in his tracks, startled, but before he could say or do anything the crocodile turned back to Linda; Superman tensed and started to move close, but the crocodile deftly grabbed the kryptonite with its teeth and quickly yanked back, pulling the kryptonite off Linda's shirt. It lumbered into the river and disappeared under the surface of the water.

Superman was a little confused, but he pushed that aside as he hurried over to Linda and knelt beside her. He quickly listened for her heartbeat and breathing, but there was nothing. He didn't waste any time as he quickly started performing CPR. "Come on, Linda," he whispered as he compressed her sternum. "Don't do this to me, sweetie." Linda didn't respond. "Fight, Linda, fight."

Suddenly, Linda started coughing furiously, spitting up water. Superman gently supported her head and neck as he turned her on her side, gently rubbing her back. After a few seconds, she stopped gagging as she gasped for air, her body shaking. The hero sighed with relief as he carefully turned her toward him, holding her in his arms; Linda slowly looked up at him, her skin extremely pale, her eyes dull and clouded.

"Clark?" she whispered, confused.

"Hey, Short Stack," Superman replied softly. Linda stared at him, then her composure suddenly broke as she wrapped her arms around him, crying into his chest. Superman held her close and as tightly as he dared. "It's okay. You're safe now." Still holding her, he carefully stood up and gently floated into the sky, heading back toward the farm.

(End of Chapter 2)


	3. Chapter 3

Inside the kitchen, Martha and Jonathan stood near the island, watching the kitchen door with worry, glancing at the clock occasionally; it had only been ten minutes since Clark had blurred out, but it felt like hours. Bruce sat at the kitchen table, doing a remote control systems check on the Batwing, while Dick sat next to him, trying to stay focused, even as he found himself eying the Kents every few seconds. Alfred stood against the wall under the stairs, watching everything and ready to jump in at any moment, but doing his best to stay out of the way until if and when he was needed.

The kitchen door suddenly opened, and Superman walked in, carrying Linda in his arms; she was conscious but very pale, her clothes and hair damp, her nose bruised, and blood coagulating underneath.

"What happened?" Jonathan asked as she and Martha hurried over; as soon as she saw her daughter's blood, Martha turned to retrieve a towel, but Alfred and already retrieved one for her. She thanked him with her eyes as she took it and began gently cleaning the blood from her daughter's face; Linda moaned softly in pain.

"I'm sorry, honey," Martha said, trying to be as gentle as possible as she dabbed at the blood, trying not to gag at the stagnant smell of river water mingled with the sickening coppery odor of her daughter's blood.

"She was in the Elbow River," Superman answered. "She had kryptonite taped to her chest." He saw the horrified expressions on his parents' faces; he glanced over at Bruce, who was watching the entire exchange with furrowed eyebrows. Dick just stared at Linda, concerned.

"I don't…feel good," Linda whispered, shivering a little.

"Take her upstairs, Clark," Jonathan instructed, trying to keep his voice from cracking. The hero nodded and held Linda securely as he crossed the room and headed up the stairs, with Jonathan and Martha following behind.

"Alfred," Bruce said as he kept his eyes on his laptop, his fingers flying across the keys.

"On it, sir," Alfred said before he headed out of the kitchen and down the hall toward the den.

"You're gonna look into it," Dick stated as he watched Bruce.

"Yes," Bruce replied without looking up; after a few moments he glanced over and saw Dick's expression. "You seem surprised."

"I just thought you didn't like Linda, that's all," Dick said.

"This has nothing to do with my suspicions about her, Dick," Bruce replied. "Clark is very protective of her, and she was just attacked; Clark will be very eager to find that person as soon as possible. Normally, that wouldn't be an issue, but—"

"There's kryptonite involved," Dick said, nodding with the realization.

"Yes," Bruce replied as Alfred came back, carrying a large black duffle bag; the butler set it on the table. "Thank you, Alfred." The businessman turned his attention to the bag and unzipped it; he pulled out a large sturdy black case and placed it on the table before opening it. Inside, nestled securely in foam, were several high-teach gadgets and weapons. Bruce pulled them out one by one, quickly checking each before placing it on the table.

"You think someone figured out she's Kryptonian?" Dick asked as he watched him.

"Possibly," Bruce said as he reached into the bag and pulled out what looked like a black belt with several compartments on it, "but my guess is this attack was meant to send a message to Superman." He saw Dick furrow his eyebrows. "It's common knowledge Clark Kent and Superman are friends; I'm willing to bet whoever did this chose Linda because they didn't think she'd be able to fight back—and the kryptonite was to ensure Superman wouldn't be able to get near her."

"Cowardly bastard," Alfred muttered. Both Bruce and Dick looked over at him, eyebrows raised. Alfred cleared his throat, collecting himself. "My apologies, sir."

"Anyway," Bruce continued, the corners of his mouth curled up a little, "whoever did this also knows that kryptonite affects Superman—and the good news is that narrows down the list of suspects."

"Unfortunately, that list **does** include Lex," Clark said as he came down; he had changed out of his costume into his civilian clothes, but he had left his glasses in his pocket.

"If he knew about your cousin," Bruce replied as he checked the compartments on the belt, "then he'd know about you—and we both know he'd come after you first."

"He'd come after me by hurting the people closest to me," Clark retorted.

"And he'd make sure you knew it was him," Bruce countered. "We both know his ego would allow for nothing less."

"Pardon me for speaking out of turn," Alfred said calmly, "but would it be too much to ask about Miss Kent's condition?"

Clark looked at Alfred; he clearly heard the slight chiding in the butler's voice, and he felt a little guilty. "Uh, well, Mom and Dad got her out of her wet clothes," he said, "and she's in bed, resting, but," he paused, remembering his first exposure to kryptonite and then quickly pushed it from his mind, "it's going to take her a while to heal."

"Well, I'll take her some tea later if she feels up to it," Alfred said. "Until then, I will start preparing dinner; your parents have more pressing matters to deal with."

"Thank you," Clark replied softly, looking grateful.

"Come, Master Dick," Alfred said to the teenage boy as he headed over to the stove.

"I'd rather stay here and help Bruce," Dick said.

"That wasn't a suggestion, Master Dick," Alfred said. His voice was calm, but his eyes dared the teenager to argue with him at the moment. Dick, knowing better, sighed and got up from the table, grumbling under his breath as he joined the butler; the two began pulling out utensils from the cabinet and food from the fridge.

"Okay, so we've eliminated Lex as a suspect," Clark said in a low voice to Bruce. "I'm assuming you've got someone else in mind."

"A few," Bruce replied, continuing his examination of his gadgets, "but there are two things I want to know first."

"What?" Clark asked.

"You weren't wet when you came back," Bruce said, "nor did you appear to be even the slightest bit off kilter."

"So?" Clark asked.

"So, how did you get Linda of the water without getting wet or being exposed to the kryptonite?" Bruce asked.

Clark pursed his lips, taking a deep breath, trying to figure out how to respond. After a few seconds, he decided to just say it. "Well," he said slowly, "I wasn't the one who pulled her out, actually."

"Then who did?" Bruce asked.

"A saltwater crocodile," Clark answered. He saw both Alfred and Dick look over, confused and intrigued.

"Come again?" Bruce asked, raising an eyebrow.

"I know what you're thinking," Clark replied, "and if I hadn't seen it myself, I wouldn't have believed it, but I got there just as a large saltwater crocodile was dragging her out of the water," he rubbed the back of his neck, "and when I approached her, it hissed at me and then grabbed the kryptonite with its teeth and pulled it off her."

"Cool," Dick said as he stopped chopping carrots, looking a little more excited than he knew he should. He saw the three adults glance at him, eyebrows raised; the teenager quickly adverted his eyes back to the cutting board and continued chopping.

"So, where's the kryptonite now?" Bruce asked.

Clark winced slightly, knowing Bruce was not going to like his answer. "It disappeared," he answered, "along with the crocodile."

* * *

Jimmy sat at his desk, using his mouse to click through the database of photos he had just uploaded; his eyes scanned the thumbnails, was trying to find the one Perry needed. He glanced over as he heard Chloe's phone ring; he noticed the reporter wasn't at her desk, so he got up and quickly hurried over, answering the phone on the third ring.

"Chloe Sullivan's desk," Jimmy said.

"Jimmy?" Clark asked, a little confused.

"Hey, Clark, what's up?"

"Uh…I was hoping to talk to Chloe," Clark said. "I called her cell, but it went to voicemail."

"She's at a press conference with the mayor," Jimmy replied.

"Oh," Clark said.

Jimmy furrowed his eyebrows, hearing the subtle change in the reporter's voice. "Is everything okay, Clark?"

"Not really," Clark replied. He paused then sighed. "Look, you're going find out sooner or later, but someone tried to kill Linda today."

Jimmy's stomach turned to ice and his face paled as he felt his legs grow weak; he slowly sat in Chloe's chair. "What?" he asked. "What happened?"

"Someone attacked her and dumped her in the Elbow River," Clark answered. "She nearly drowned, but Superman was able to save her."

"Is she okay?" Jimmy asked. "Did he catch the person who did it?"

"Yes, she's fine," Clark answered. "She's resting right now, but we honestly don't know who did it or what happened; we're waiting for Linda to get some rest before we talk to her."

"I'm coming out," Jimmy said bluntly.

"Jimmy, no," Clark replied.

"Clark, someone attacked Linda, and she nearly died," Jimmy replied, trying not to get angry or raise his voice. "I want to come out and help find the SOB who did that to her."

"Jimmy, I understand how you're feeling, believe me," Clark said, "but right now Linda needs to rest, okay?" He sighed. "Look, tomorrow's Saturday. I'll call you in the morning and let you know how she is; if she's feeling better, you can come out and see her."

Jimmy wasn't too thrilled with that suggestion, but he knew it wouldn't do any good to argue. "Okay," he replied.

"Jimmy, I mean it," Clark said gently. "Please don't try to sneak out here right now."

"I won't."

"Thanks…will you let the others know what's going on?"

"Sure," Jimmy replied.

"Thank you."

"No problem." Jimmy placed the receiver back on its cradle, but he stayed sitting, just staring at the phone. After a few moments, he rubbed the bridge of his nose tiredly, then took a deep breath and stood up, heading toward Perry's office.

(End of Chapter 3)


	4. Chapter 4

The remainder of the afternoon went by without incident. Jonathan and Martha stayed with Linda as she rested, and Bruce and Dick had helped Clark with the chores while Alfred prepared a light dinner. It took a little gentle prodding to get everyone to eat (except Linda, as she was sleeping), but the butler was quickly satisfied.

The sun was setting as he began cleaning up the kitchen and boiling water for tea when he heard a slight creak behind him. He looked up and saw Jonathan coming down the stairs, followed by Martha and Linda; the teenager wore a pair of blue flannel pajamas and matching fuzzy socks, and her hair was dry and a little disheveled.

"Miss Kent," Alfred said, smiling warmly, "it's good to see you up and about. How are you feeling?"

Linda looked at Alfred as she reached the bottom of the stairs. She stared at him, furrowing her eyebrows as she tilted her head slightly; it took a moment for her to recognize him. "It's Alfred, right?" she asked softly.

"That's correct, Miss," Alfred replied, nodding politely. "It's nice to make your acquaintance. How are you feeling?"

"Better, thank you," Linda replied, trying to smile, but with her pale complexion (which made the bruise on her nose extra conspicuous) and dazed expression, it came out as more of a grimace.

"Well, I heating some water for tea," Alfred replied. "Why don't you make yourself comfortable on the couch, and I'll prepare you a cup."

"Thank you, Alfred," Martha said gratefully. She gently steered Linda into the living room, while Jonathan hung back in the kitchen.

"Thank you for your help, Alfred," Jonathan said as he came over and leaned against the island.

"My pleasure, sir," Alfred replied. "Would you and Mrs. Kent like some tea as well?"

"No, thank you," Jonathan answered. Alfred nodded and retrieved a single mug from the cabinet. Jonathan eyed the gadgets and weapons on the table. "So, where are Bruce and my son?"

"In the barn," Alfred replied as he poured water into the mug and began preparing the tea. "Master Bruce wanted to wait until nightfall until he and your son begin their investigation, so he wanted to give Master Dick a training lesson until then; they should all be in soon."

"So, he hasn't given up on his plans for Dick, huh?" Jonathan said, looking a little less than pleased.

"No," Alfred replied, "and while I don't know what those specific plans are, I am confident it doesn't include Master Dick donning his own outfit any time soon."

Jonathan didn't look completely convinced, but he decided to change the subject. "So, then, Bruce will be looking in to what happened with Linda?" he asked.

"He felt it the most logical course of action, considering the use of kryptonite against your daughter," Alfred replied.

"Well, I think he's got the right idea," Jonathan replied. "Honestly, I'd really prefer it if **Clark** wasn't involved, but I know he's going to look into it, regardless of what we tell him."

Alfred finished preparing the tea and brought it into the living room. Linda was sitting on the couch, with a quilt draped over her shoulders; Martha sat beside her. "Here you are, miss," he said. "One cup of hot tea to warm you up."

"Thank you," Linda replied, taking the offered mug. She absentmindedly took a sip, then winced as the hot liquid burned her tongue. "Ow."

"Careful," Martha said gently.

Linda sighed and tried to ignore the slight sting on her tongue as she blew on the tea before carefully taking another sip; the hot liquid felt soothing on her throat, the warmth spreading to the rest of her body as it hit her stomach. "You know," she said softly, "when Clark described how it felt being exposed to kryptonite, I thought he was being overdramatic."

"I wish I had been."

Everyone looked over as Clark entered the living room, looking relieved and concerned at the same; he was followed by Krypto and Streaky. Clark headed toward the couch and sat on the other side of Linda. "You doing okay?" he asked, putting and arm around her and hugging her gently.

"A lot better than earlier today," Linda admitted, hugging him back while Krypto and Streaky stayed at her feet, nuzzling her legs; the young girl reached down and gently petted them, thankful that they weren't jumping into her lap. She glanced over and saw Bruce and Dick hanging back just inside. She recognized both of them from Clark's descriptions—and photos she had pulled up from the internet—but she was a little surprised to see them in sweatpants, tank tops (which Linda had to admit showed off their muscles pretty nicely), and sneakers; they had small towels around their necks, and both of them looked like they had just had an intense workout.

"Well, it'll just take time," Clark said, he glanced briefly at Alfred, "and since it looks like you've already met Alfred," he nodded at Bruce and Dick, "I'd like you to introduce you to Bruce Wayne and Dick Grayson."

"Hi," Linda said softly, nodding politely. Dick smiled a little and waved, but Bruce just stared right at Linda; after a moment he nodded curtly. Linda would have been a little offended or put off, but she remembered what her cousin had told her about Bruce—he wasn't much of a people person—so she just went back to sipping her tea.

"Linda, honey," Jonathan spoke up, "can you tell us what happened?"

Linda reflexively glanced at the newcomers, even though she knew they were aware of hers and Clark's true origins. "I don't remember much," she admitted, cradling the cup in her hands. Besides warming her, it was comforting; she stared at the dark liquid, watching the steam rise slowly from it. "I was in the student parking lot, getting ready to zoom off and come home when I felt sick and weak in the knees. Someone tapped me on the shoulder, and I turned around; I saw the kryptonite right before it slammed into my face. I was knocked to the ground, my glasses and bag knocked aside, and I have no idea what happened to them, then I felt and tasted the blood coming out of my nose, which hurt—a lot. I looked up and saw three people standing over me."

"What did they look like?" Bruce asked.

"I didn't get a good look at them," Linda replied. "As soon as I looked up, I was punched again with the rock; it knocked me out…next thing I know, I'm in the trunk of a car with the kryptonite taped to my chest. I don't know how long I'd been in there or where I was being taken—I could barely move without feeling weak or nauseous. After some time, the car stopped and the trunk was open; all three of the people were there. They pulled me out and dragged me away from the car, and that's when I recognized where we were: Loeb Bridge; they lifted me up and dumped me over the edge. I landed in the water and tried to swim, but…" she remembered the fear she'd felt as she sank toward the bottom, her vision growing dark, and her eyes welled up with tears, "but I couldn't."

A tear fell down her cheek, and she quickly wiped it away, embarrassed; she took a deep breath and let it out slowly. "Last thing I remember before blacking out," she continued, "was calling for Clark." The young girl sighed and took another tentative sip of her tea. "Next thing I knew, I was laying on the bank, coughing up water, with Clark kneeling beside me—the kryptonite was gone." She looked over at Clark quizzically. "How did you save me without getting hurt yourself?"

"Actually, I didn't," Clark replied slowly. "You were pulled out of the water…by a saltwater crocodile."

Jonathan and Martha glanced at each other before looking back at their son. "You wanna run that by us again?" Jonathan asked as he folded his arms.

"I know it sounds crazy," Clark said, "but a saltwater crocodile dragged Linda out of the water."

"Don't saltwater crocodiles live around Indonesia and Australia?" Linda asked.

"Seeing how I saved a tourist from getting eaten by one last year near Darwin," Clark answered, trying not to sound defensive, "I know what one looks like—and yes, I know where they live, but I know what I saw."

"So, a real saltwater pulled me out of the water?" Linda asked slowly.

Clark nodded. "And ripped the kryptonite off you," he added, "and then promptly disappeared—with the kryptonite."

"Okay, is it me or is something strange going on with the animal population around here?" Martha asked.

"That might be a question Linda might be able to answer," Bruce spoke up.

"Why me?" Linda asked, confused.

"This isn't your first unusual encounter with animals, is it?" Bruce replied. Linda opened her mouth, but Bruce cut her off. "That was rhetorical; Clark told me about the incidences with the rat and the owl."

"And I should know better than to mention anything in passing around you," Clark muttered, slightly annoyed. "Bruce, you really don't think Linda can communicate with animals, do you?"

"Considering how little we know about her telepathic abilities," Bruce replied, "I'm not ignoring the possibility."

"And if that was true, why don't know what I'm doing?" Linda asked, slightly defensive. "Better yet, how would I have been able to communicate with a saltwater crocodile if they live on the other side of the world—or do you think it escaped from a nearby zoo?"

"My theory concerning your ability doesn't extend to the crocodile," Bruce replied. He noticed everyone looking at him quizzically; the hero inwardly smirked. "That there have been no reports of any sightings of the animal—especially considering how large Clark said it was—along with the fact that the animal knew to get rid of the kryptonite, leads me to believe we're dealing with something completely different with the animal that pulled you from the river."

"The only logical conclusion I can see is J'onn," Clark said.

"He's the Martian, right," Linda asked, "the one who can shapeshift?" Clark had briefly told her about the members of the Justice League when he'd told Linda about Bruce, but the teenager still had a hard time remembering who was who.

Clark nodded. "And he knows about our vulnerability to kryptonite—and he knows about you."

"Already checked," Bruce interjected. "J'onn's been in the Watchtower all day."

"You think someone else?" Clark asked.

"Maybe there's another skinwalker," Martha said. "Maybe Joseph Willowbrook would know something."

"I don't think it's a skinwalker," Clark said. "Joseph said the Kawatche skinwalkers could only change into and back from wolves."

"Or it could be something completely different," Bruce spoke up, a little annoyed. "Whatever it is, and whoever's behind this, I intend to get to the bottom of it." He stared right at Linda as he finished his statement.

Linda knew from Clark's description that Bruce had an uncanny ability to make people shrink back in fear, but she simply put her mug down and got to her feet as she stared right back at him, unblinking. "Mister Wayne, give then circumstances surrounding my attack," she said calmly, "I appreciate any help you give, but let's get one thing straight: I know what you think about me, and I've been willing to overlook the fact that you're so threatened by my presence that you have to spy on me to satisfy your paranoia." She saw the slight dilation of Bruce's pupils and smirked to herself, knowing she'd caught him off guard; she figured it didn't happen often—and when it did, he didn't like it.

"If you think I'm going to cower under your glare and confess to a nonexistent hidden agenda like some common criminal from Gotham," she continued. "then you might want to remember this: I stopped being afraid of monsters the day my biological father died—and he was a **lot** scarier than you." She wrapped the blanket tighter around as she wordlessly excused herself and headed up the stairs, with Streaky and Krypto following her.

For a few moments, no one said anything as they tried to process what had just happened. Clark had watched his cousin leave, his expression a cross between shock and amusement, and he turned back to look at everyone else's reactions. Martha appeared just as shocked and amused as the reporter, while Jonathan rubbed the back of his neck, pursing his lips to stop from grinning. Dick glanced at Bruce as he leaned against the wall, arms folded, his face expressionless but his eyes dancing with delight, while Alfred didn't bother hiding the smirk on his face. Bruce—on the other hand—stared right at Clark, his eyes daggers.

"You told her the League wanted to monitor her?" he asked.

"All you said was that you wanted the observation to be conducted by objective individuals," Clark replied unapologetically. "And you know I don't keep secrets from my family." Bruce just continued staring at him, and Clark sighed as he got to his feet. "You wanna be mad at me, then fine, but don't take it out on her."

"I don't plan on it," Bruce replied calmly. "Now, if we're done here, I have work to do; don't wait up." He turned and headed back into the kitchen.

"Master Dick," Alfred spoke up, "I believe it's time for you to be getting ready for bed."

"Which is code for 'adult talk' again," Dick replied as he slowly crossed the living room to the den.

"Goodnight, Dick," Clark said.

"Goodnight, Clark," Dick answered. He nodded at Clark's parents. "Goodnight, Mr. Kent, Mrs. Kent."

"Goodnight, Dick," Martha said.

Jonathan nodded. "Goodnight."

"I apologize for Master Bruce's behavior," Alfred said after Dick had left.

"Alfred, we're all aware of how Bruce feels about Linda," Jonathan replied, "but we also know he won't do anything rash. Linda has nothing to hide—we all know that—and Bruce will eventually see that."

"Of course," Alfred said, nodding. "Well, I'm going to make sure Master Dick is actually getting prepared for bed, then I'll see Master Bruce off. And please don't worry about the mess in the kitchen; I'll tend to that as well." He nodded again before leaving the living room.

"Well, I'm going to go check on Linda," Martha said as she got to her feet. She kissed Clark's cheek, then Jonathan's before she crossed the room and headed up the stairs.

"So, are you going out with Bruce tonight?" Jonathan asked.

"Yeah," Clark replied. "Hopefully we won't be out too long."

"Well, I'll get the couch ready for you," Jonathan replied, "but I want you to be careful, okay? Both of you."

"We'll be fine," Clark reassured his father.

"Please do," Jonathan said. Clark nodded and left to join Bruce in the kitchen, while Jonathan headed toward the hall closet.

(End of Chapter 4)


	5. Chapter 5

The sun shone brightly through Linda's bedroom window as the teenager stirred and opened her eyes. She blinked reflexively and rubbed her eyes before yawning and stretching under the covers, then she slowly sat up; she noticed Krypto and Streaky both at the foot of the bed, curled up and sleeping. Linda smiled a little before glancing over at her nightstand; her smile faded when she saw her glasses folded up and resting right in front of her alarm clock.

Furrowing her eyebrows, she reached over and carefully took then, turning them around and examining them; they were completely intact, even the glass 'lenses' were intact, with no sign of damage. She slipped them on and slowly smiled as she felt the bridge rest on her nose; she knew it was silly—she didn't really need them—but they had become such an important part of her life since coming to Earth that it felt weird not having them, even if her nose was still bruised and a little tender.

Linda pulled back the covers and got out of bed, careful not to disturb her pets and she padded over to her dresser—pausing momentarily when she saw her backpack hanging off her desk chair. She opened drawers and pulled out a pair of black capri pants and a matching tank top; she quickly changed, then styled her hair in a loose braid before leaving her room and heading down the stairs to the kitchen. She noticed Martha and Alfred cleaning the kitchen, while Dick sat on one of the island stools, munching on an apple.

"Hey," she said.

"Hey, honey," Martha said, smiling as Linda walked over to the island. "How're you feeling?"

"Better," Linda replied, "but still a little tired," she looked a little embarrassed, "and hungry."

"Well, you're in luck, miss," Alfred said, smiling. He opened the oven and pulled out a plate loaded with bacon, sausage links, and eggs; he set it in front of the young girl. "We kept a plate warmed for you." He smiled as he handed her a fork. "Enjoy."

Linda smiled her thanks and began shoveling the food into her mouth; she didn't have her superspeed, but she still stuffed her mouth, chewing quickly, and swallowing. "This is good," she mumbled, her mouth full.

"Linda, honey, manners," Martha chided her, smiling.

"Sorry," Linda mumbled. She slowed down—a little bit—but she still quickly cleaned her plate. "That was really good."

"Do your glasses fit well?" Alfred asked. "Master Bruce said he would make any adjustments if you need them."

Linda stopped eating, raising her eyebrow. "Bruce found them?" she asked, surprised.

Alfred nodded. "Along with your book bag," he replied. "He and your cousin found them discarded in the woods a few miles from the bridge you'd been thrown from. Your bag was unscathed—as were the contents inside—but your glasses required a little reconstruction; Master Bruce finished at about three this morning and put them on your nightstand so you'd see them when you woke."

Linda looked a little stunned. "Uh…wow," she said slowly. "That was, uh…nice of him."

"Despite his attempts to the contrary," Alfred said, "Master Bruce is actually a nice person once you get to know him."

"I know," Linda admitted. "Clark told me what happened when he was younger…how that affected him."

"Just give him time," Alfred suggested, "he'll come around; just be patient with him."

"I'll try," Linda replied, "but I stand by what I said last night: I'm not going to let him intimidate me."

"Good," Alfred said, smiling.

"That was totally awesome, by the way," Dick spoke up, grinning at Linda.

"Master Dick, don't you have some homework you should be completing?" Alfred asked.

"Actually, I finished mine on the plane out here yesterday," Dick pointed out. He leaned toward Linda conspiratorially. "I didn't want to spend my visit doing Geometry."

"Well, unfortunately, I think Linda has some homework she needs to catch up on," Martha spoke up.

"I was unconscious yesterday," Linda protested. "Remember me at the bottom of the river with kryptonite on my chest?"

"Yes, and you're doing just fine right now," Martha pointed out, "and your homework isn't going to do itself."

"You're sounding just like Dad," Linda mumbled a little. She glanced at her mother, who just raised an eyebrow, and she sighed as she stood up. "Fine, fine, I'm going." She headed up the stairs.

"I'll come with you," Dick replied, amused. He followed Linda, leaving Alfred and Martha to just glance at each other, smiling.

* * *

A few hours later, a 2006 brown Chevy Cavalier pulled up beside the limo parked next to the fence. Jimmy turned the engine off and took a deep breath before opening the door and getting out. He looked over as he saw Clark and Jonathan exiting the barn, followed by Bruce Wayne—all three dressed in work clothes, looking sweaty and slightly disheveled. The photographer wasn't surprised to see the businessman (Clark had mentioned it about a week ago that Bruce Wayne would be visiting), but he was a put off seeing the businessman dressed in something other than a crisp Italian suit.

"Jimmy," Jonathan said, smiling as he approached the teenager, holding out his hand, "it's good to see you again. How are you doing?"

"Just fine, sir," Jimmy replied, shaking the farmer's hand.

"So, what brings you out here?" Jonathan asked.

"Uh, Clark said I could come out and see how Linda was doing," Jimmy answered slowly. He saw Jonathan glance at his son, how was trying to look innocent. "Is that a problem? I can leave if it is."

Jonathan sighed, smiling. "No, it's fine," he said. "I know Linda will be happy to see you."

Jimmy nodded, then glanced at Bruce. "Mister Wayne," he said.

"Jimmy," Bruce replied, nodding. "Good to see you again; it's been about a year, hasn't it?" Jimmy nodded in response, but he kept quiet.

"Well, Linda's in her room," Clark said, noticing Jimmy's nervousness. "She and Dick are working on her homework, but they should be done by now."

"Dick's here?" Jimmy asked, slightly defensive.

"Grayson," Clark answered quickly, "not Malverne." He saw the relief wash over Jimmy's eyes.

"Okay," Jimmy replied, trying to appear casual. "Oh, uh, I have a few things for her, too." He opened the back door and pulled out a flower arrangement made of sunflowers, with a little 'Get Well Soon' balloon stuck in the middle, "this is from Chloe and Lois," he handed it to Jonathan before leaning over and pulling out an arrangements of different colored sweat peas, "this is from Perry," he handed it to Clark, then leaned in and pulled out a small bouquet of dyed neon daisies, looking a little embarrassed, "and this is…from me." He felt his cheeks grow a little warm.

"I think Linda's going to love it," Jonathan replied sincerely, trying not to smile too much. "We can take these up to her right now."

"Uh, actually, could I talk to Clark first?" Jimmy asked. "Privately?" Clark and Jonathan glanced at each other.

"Sure," Clark replied, "we can talk in the barn." He handed Bruce the flowers he was holding. "Here, Bruce." He put an arm around Jimmy's shoulders and steered him toward the barn.

* * *

"Okay, right hand blue," Linda said slowly. A Twister board was spread out on the bedroom floor, and both she and Dick were contorted, twisted up and around each other like a pretzel. Linda glanced at her friend and grinned; there was no way he'd be able to reach around her, find a blue dot, and stay upright. Dick took a breath and balanced on his feet and left hand, and twisted around Linda, reaching around her left leg, past her right hand, and planted his right hand on a blue dot; he smiled when he saw her wincing.

"Former acrobat," Dick replied. "We had to learn how to twist and turn."

Linda sighed and rolled her eyes before looking at her bed. Krypto and Streaky were sprawled out beside the Twister spinner. The young girl smiled as she stared at the spinner, focusing; it took a little extra effort, but the plastic needle suddenly spun, as if flicked by an invisible finger. Linda grinned Streaky reached over, pawing at it.

"Streaky, leave it alone!" she said, giggling. The cat rolled on her back and meowed. "Oh, you think you're so cute, huh?"

"So, is this History or Geography?" Dick and Linda craned their heads to see Jimmy standing in the frame of her bedroom door, holding a bouquet of dyed daisies, looking a little amused and confused.

"Jimmy," Linda replied, and her expression brightened considerably. She carefully extracted herself and stood up; she pushed her glasses carefully up her nose as she crossed the room and gently put her arms around Jimmy's neck, hugging him tightly. Jimmy hesitated, stiffening a little, before he wrapped his arms around her, returning the hug. After a few moments, Linda pulled back, still smiling. "What are you doing here?"

"Clark told me what happened yesterday," Jimmy explained. "He said I could come out today and see how you're doing," he shrugged, "but if you don't want me to be here, I can go."

"No, please, stay," Linda said. She glanced over at Dick as he got to his feet. "Oh, uh, Jimmy, this is Dick Grayson. Dick, this is Jimmy Olsen."

"Nice to meet you," Dick replied as he walked over and held out his hand. Jimmy politely shook it.

Linda saw the bouquet in Jimmy's other hand. "Are those for me?"

Jimmy looked a little embarrassed, but he nodded and held it up. "I figured you'd like all the colors."

Linda smiled as she took them. "They're beautiful," she said before she kissed his cheek. "Thank you."

"Boy, am I thirsty," Dick suddenly said. "I'm gonna go get something to drink." He walked over and gently picked up Krypto and Streaky. "Come on, you two." He carried them out of the room and gently put them on the floor before he shut the door, grinning.

"So, are you really okay?" Jimmy asked, glancing at her bruised nose, concerned. "Your nose."

"I'm fine," Linda reassured. She noticed Jimmy looked a little…off. "Jimmy, what's wrong?"

Jimmy just stared at her for a moment, then he took her free hand and led her over to the bed; he moved the Twister spinner to the nightstand and sat down on the edge of the bed with her. "Do you remember last month when I wanted to tell you something," he asked, "and then I said it wasn't a good time, and then my mom and Bibbo showed up?"

"Yes," Linda replied slowly.

"I want to tell you what that something is now," Jimmy replied.

Linda looked a little confused, then the realization suddenly hit her, and she sighed. "Jimmy, is this because I was attacked?"

"Yes," Jimmy answered. "I mean, if…if Superman hadn't saved you…you would have died—and I'd have missed my chance."

"Jimmy, if this is about my choice," Linda said gently, "I already know how you feel about me—and I still haven't decided."

"What I have to say has nothing to do with your decision," Jimmy replied. He opened his mouth then he shook his head a little, looking down. "You know, I had this big speech memorized, but now my mind's completely blank."

"Jimmy," Linda said, putting her hand on his shoulder, "just tell me."

Jimmy slowly looked up at her, meeting her eyes; he sat up straight, turning toward her. "Alright," he said before he took a deep breath and let it out slowly. "Here it goes." He swallowed nervously. "I…know."

Linda raised an eyebrow, confused. "You know…what?" she asked.

"About everything," Jimmy answered. "I mean, not about everything, but I know the basics."

"What basics?" Linda asked, a little frustrated.

"About Clark," Jimmy answered, shrugging, "and about you." He swallowed again, his eyes locking with hers. "Linda, I know you're Kryptonian."

(End of Chapter 5)


	6. Chapter 6

Linda stared at Jimmy, stunned, trying to process what he had just said. Her brain raced with panic as she tried to come up with something—anything—to say in response. After a few seconds, she took a deep breath and smoothed some hair from her face. "What are you talking about?" she asked nonchalantly.

Jimmy raised an eyebrow and almost smiled. He had seen the flash of panic wash over her eyes, the way she brushed the hair from her face (something he noticed she'd always do when she was nervous), and he knew that she knew she'd been caught and was trying to cover it up; he would have laughed out loud, but he knew better.

"It's okay Linda," he said gently. "You don't have to pretend anymore."

Linda opened her mouth, but as she looked at Jimmy she realized it would have been pointless; she sighed and closed her eyes as she hung her head. "I am in so much trouble," she said.

"What are you talking about?" Jimmy asked.

"Oh, nothing," Linda said calmly as she got to her feet, leaving the flowers on her bed; she started pacing the floor. "I've just spent the past four months trying to keep who I am a secret," her voice started shifting into a slightly higher pitch, "and I just find out that I'm not good at doing that, because apparently I did something that caused you to figure out who I really am—and Mom and Dad and Clark are going to be mad at me."

Jimmy could tell she was in the middle of the beginning of a freak out, and he figured it wouldn't do anyone any good if she started acting irrationally—Kryptonian or not. He stood up and walked over to her as she turned around and put his hands on her shoulders.

"Linda, calm down," he said gently.

"So, how long have you known?" Linda asked suddenly, her eyes full of panic, racking her brain; every question she wanted to ask just spilled out. "What did I say? What did I do? How did you find out? Why aren't you freaking out?"

"Linda," Jimmy said more insistently, "look at me." Linda met his eyes, and Jimmy could tell she looked on the verge of tears. "You did nothing."

"I didn't?" Linda asked, confused. Jimmy shook his head, smiling a little. "Then…how did you figure out who I am?"

"That would actually be Clark's fault," Jimmy replied. Linda furrowed his eyebrows, and the photographer sighed. "Why don't we sit down?" He gently steered her back to the bed and sat down, carefully pulling her down beside him. "Okay, here's what happened. It was actually in April: I'd already been working at the Planet for about five years, Clark had been there about a year and a half." He pursed his lips, sighing. "One day, he was treating me to lunch, and there was this really bad accident right outside the café. Clark said he'd call for help as I went outside to take pictures; Superman showed up a few moments later and helped everyone out. It took a while for the police and ambulance to show up, but after they did, Superman left—and Clark came back. He told me after he called for help, the chicken salad he'd eaten wasn't agreeing with him, so he had to make a pit stop."

"And you didn't buy it," Linda said.

"I thought maybe he'd fallen and hit his head or something," Jimmy said honestly, "and then I noticed that his tie wasn't tied properly; I saw the blue, red, and yellow peeking out a little from under his shirt," he shrugged, "and then it just clicked—and all those times he'd leave suddenly with some lame excuse when there's an emergency."

"Okay," Linda replied, a little relieved, "but what about me?"

"The photography shop," Jimmy answered. "A blonde girl wearing red and blue, who threw a guy twice her size through a window and into a parked car. I wanted to ask Clark about it, but I figured he was probably protecting her, and I didn't want to freak him out by saying anything. I didn't think anything more of it until my birthday, when we first met: blonde hair, glasses, unusual back story…and Clark's cousin." He smiled a little, shrugging. "I've known about you since the moment I saw you."

Linda was a little touched by his words. "This entire time?" she asked softly.

Jimmy nodded. "Yeah," he replied. He watched as she stood up and walked over to her window, hugging herself as she looked out. "You're mad, aren't you?"

Linda shook her head slightly. "Not really," she said softly as she turned to him. "To be honest, I don't know what I'm feeling right now. I mean, there's a part of me that's relieved you know, because I've wanted to tell you the truth pretty much as long as I've known you."

"But," Jimmy said cautiously, sensing her tone.

"But you've had four months to tell me," Linda replied, "and you didn't say anything until now."

"I didn't want to freak you out," Jimmy protested. "I saw how you acted when Lois had joked about you being an alien. I thought if I told you I knew, you'd panic…and then you'd never want to see me again."

"How could you say that?" Linda asked as she walked back over and sat next to him. "You're my best friend."

"I am?" Jimmy asked, surprised.

Linda nodded. "You're the first person my age I met after coming here," she said. "You taught me how to dance, got me interested in Doctor Who, which is totally awesome," she smiled a little, "and we committed grand theft auto together. 'If that doesn't scream friendship, then I don't know what does.'" Jimmy smiled a little, remembering when he had said those exact same words to her a few months ago. "Now that you know, I finally have someone I can really talk to." She reached over and gently took one of his hands. "You have no idea how much that means to me."

Jimmy smiled a little, squeezing her hand. "Well, I'll always be around if you need me," he said softly. He was glad Linda smiled back, and he stared at her for a few moments. "Hey, uh, can I do something that might seem weird but really isn't?"

"Like what?" Linda asked.

Jimmy gently moved his hands up the sides of her face. Linda stiffened briefly as he gently gripped her glasses and carefully removed them. "There," he said before he set them on her nightstand; he smiled. "So, that's what you really look like." Linda's cheeks turned a little pink, and Jimmy noticed her eyes appeared a more vivid blue—almost like the glasses muted them; he cleared his throat nervously. "So, uh, what's your real name? I, uh, I mean…what was your name before coming here?"

"Kara," Linda replied softly. "Kara Zor-El."

Jimmy smiled. "That's a nice name."

"Thanks," Linda replied, smiling briefly before she cleared her throat. "Uh…Jimmy, I hope you realize this doesn't change anything about…us. I mean, I still haven't decided."

"I know," Jimmy replied sincerely. "That's why I didn't say anything last month…I didn't want it to affect your decision." Linda looked surprised and a little relieved. "So, uh, does Dick know?"

"Grayson, yes," Linda replied, "Malverne…not anymore." Jimmy looked confused, and Linda sighed, smiling. "Okay, if you're going to be in the inner circle now—there's a **lot** to catch you up on."

* * *

Hours later, after dinner, Linda stood in the barn, dressed in a form-fitting pair of black leggings and matching sports bra; her hair was pulled back into a tight ponytail. She narrowed her eyes as she crouched low, balancing on the balls of her feet as she assumed a defensive stance; she raised her arms in front of her and smirked. "Ready when you are," she said.

Dick stood a few feet away from her, dressed in his workout clothes from the previous evening; he assumed a Kenpo fighting stance; he raised his hands and motioned her, smiling. "Ladies first," he replied.

Jimmy stood off to the side, leaning against the stairs, arms folded, and watched the two, his eyebrows raised a little in curious amusement.

Linda grinned and gave a loud shout before she lunged at Dick, swinging her right fist at his head; he expertly blocked and delivered a blow of his own. Linda expertly bent backwards, feeling his fist brush against her nose, then threw all her weight with her and did a backflip, landing gracefully a few feet back. Before he could say anything, she did a quick leg sweep, knocking Dick on his back; she quickly pinned him to the ground.

"That all you got?" she asked playfully, panting a little, beads of sweat forming on her forehead.

Dick chuckled before bringing his knees to his chest and pushed his legs out, causing Linda to stumble back, but she quickly righted herself and assumed a fighting stance as Dick jumped to his feet. The teenagers lunged at each other, delivering punches and blocks, kicks and flips to each other while Jimmy watched, not sure who he was more impressed with—even if he was secretly rooting for Linda.

After about fifteen minutes, it seemed as if the sparring matching was going to be in a stalemate, when Dick jumped high into the air, flipping twice over Linda's head, and landed in a crouch behind her. Before Linda could react, he did a leg sweep, knocking the young girl off her feet; she landed on her back with a loud 'oof,' her shoulders quickly pinned down by Dick.

"Give?" he asked with a grin, panting and sweating.

Linda panted loudly, sweating profusely, and she almost looked like she was going to continue the fight, but she slowly smiled. "Give," she said. Dick grinned wider as he got to his feet. He held out his hand, and Linda accepted it; Dick pulled her to her feet as Jimmy walked over, holding out two small gym towels. The two fighters took them and began patting their faces.

"You okay?" Jimmy asked, trying not to notice how flushed Linda's cheeks appeared.

"Yeah, that was awesome," Linda replied, grinning. She knew she was far from being back to her normal strength, but sparring with Dick had been very energizing; she saw Jimmy appeared unconvinced, and she put a hand on his shoulder. "Really, I'm fine." Jimmy looked a little more relaxed.

"So, what kind of fighting was that?" Dick asked Linda, looking impressed. "Karate, krav maga?"

"Horo-Kanu," Linda replied as she patted her cheek, her breath slowly returning to normal.

"Gesundheit?" Jimmy asked, smiling a little.

"It's a form of Kryptonian martial arts," Linda answered, smiling. "Rok-Var taught it to me when I was younger."

"Well, I don't know about you," Dick said, "but I could use a glass of water." Linda nodded in agreement, and the trio headed out of the barn and toward the house.

"So, you think Bruce and Clark are going to be out all night again?" Linda asked as they walked down the gravel drive. With Jimmy being a member of the inner circle about Clark and Linda, it naturally extended to Bruce's secret; Jimmy—while a little impressed—had not been completely surprised by the revelation.

"Yeah," Dick replied. "He's pretty pissed off he hasn't been able to locate the kryptonite used against you…or any signs of the croc."

"Or the people who attacked her in the first place, right?" Jimmy asked, a little annoyed.

"Yeah, of course," Dick answered. "That goes without saying."

"I wish I could have seen their faces," Linda said, frustrated. "This whole thing would probably be over by now."

"It's not your fault," Jimmy replied, putting an arm around her shoulders. "You weren't exactly in the best condition to see anything." Something in the shadows ahead of them moved, causing all of them to stop short. Before they could say anything, a large coyote emerged from the darkness, stopping about ten feet away; it stared at them with yellow eyes.

"No one move," Dick said, tensing.

"Not another one," Linda whispered softly in disbelief. She heard the sound of Krypto barking loudly, and she knew he must have sensed the coyote from inside the house. She slowly turned her head as the kitchen door opened and Krypto bolted out, jumping off the porch and tearing down the walk. He skittered to a stop about ten feet from the coyote, tensing his body, his fur bristled, his lips curled back into a snarl. The coyote turned to face the young dog, but instead of growling defensively, the teens watched in shock as the animal slowly backed away, keeping his eyes on Krypto.

"No one move," Jonathan shouted as he quickly approached, holding his shotgun; Martha, and Alfred followed behind. The adults stopped just outside the fence, and Jonathan raised his gun, aiming it right at the coyote. "I got it."

"Dad, wait," Linda said, holding up her hand. She carefully took a step toward the coyote and her dog. "Krypto, back off." The dog continued growling at the coyote, never taking his eyes off it as Linda moved to within a few feet of the coyote. "Krypto, down, boy." The coyote suddenly curled his lips back, growling loudly, barking viciously; Krypto suddenly whimpered and abruptly turned and ran back into the house.

"Linda, watch out!" Jonathan shouted right before he fired his weapon.

Linda's eyes widened as her entire world shifted into a slightly slower mode; the young girl saw the bullet moving through the air at a slower speed, but not as slow as it'd be if she had been at full power. Without hesitating, she jumped between the coyote and her father. Her shoulder exploded with pain as she fell to the ground; she clutched her shoulder, groaning loudly.

Before anyone could even shout or move towards her, the coyote's features suddenly and fluidly shifted and changed. In an instant, Gar stood where the coyote had once been, clothed in a simple pair of jeans, t-shirt, and sneakers. He stared down at Linda with a horrified expression as he scrambled over to her, kneeling beside her.

"Have you lost it?!" he asked, his voice full of panic. "What were you doing?!"

Breathing hard, Linda clutched her shoulder, groaning a little. "Saving your life," she replied, wincing as Gar slowly helped her into a sitting position. She slowly pulled her hand back, revealing a large welt and deep bruise forming on her shoulder, but nothing else; the bullet hadn't even broken the skin. Linda glanced down at the gravel, scanning the ground until she spotted the bullet near Gar's feet; it had been significantly compressed, almost like an accordion. She glanced over at her friend as he just stared at her, and she sighed. "Gar, there's something you should know about me."

"That's going to have to wait."

Linda stiffened as she recognized the gruff voice, and she and Gar slowly glanced over. Superman and Batman standing with the others, and Linda figured they must have arrived during the commotion. While almost everyone stared at Gar in stunned silence, Batman just leered, his eyes narrowed.

Gar swallowed nervously. "Uh, hi," he said meekly to everyone. "Look, I know you're wondering what the heck is going on, but I swear I can explain everything."

(End of Chapter 6)


	7. Chapter 7

Martha sat next to Linda on the living room couch and gently applied an ice pack to her shoulder; Linda hissed in pain.

"Sorry, sweetie," Martha said softly.

"It's okay," Linda said. Despite the pain, she kept the ice pack against her shoulder; in a few seconds, the area started numbing, and she carefully leaned against the back of the couch. She sighed and glanced around the room at the others; everyone had spread out around the living room—Jimmy and Dick stood near the bay window, Gar sat in one of the rocking chairs, Superman and Batman stood near the piano, Alfred waited near the kitchen entrance, and Jonathan leaned against the fireplace; Streaky and Krypto were secure up in Linda's room. The young girl could feel the high level of emotions emanating from everyone—worry, fear, concern, curiosity—but the strongest came from her adoptive father…and she knew it was something they were going to have to deal with—later.

"So, Gar," she said slowly, "I'm sure you're wondering why I don't have a bullet in my shoulder—or even through my shoulder."

"Actually, I'm just curious why you're bruising at all," Gar said. "I thought you were supposed to be bulletproof…or does that have something to do with meteor rock taped to you?" He suddenly realized that everyone was staring at him, stunned.

"I think you better start explaining yourself," Batman asked, getting into Gar's face, causing the teenager to pale, his eyes widening.

"Starting with how you know about Linda," Jimmy added, stepping forward, trying to look threatening.

"Yeah, have you been spying on her?" Dick joined in, frowning. He and Jimmy suddenly realized that everyone was staring right at them. The adults looked at them tiredly—except for Alfred (who appeared almost amused) and Batman (who just glared); Linda looked almost impressed, smiling slightly, while Gar just appeared confused. Dick and Jimmy glanced at each other then wordlessly backed off.

"Talk," Batman demanded as he looked back at Gar.

"Look, I know about Linda," Gar said slowly, trying not to make any sudden movements, "because…because she kinda told me."

"What are you talking about?" Linda asked. "I never told you anything!" She glanced at her parents and Superman. "I swear, I didn't say anything to him."

"Actually, you kinda did," Gar continued. He cleared his throat, then made a soft hooting sound.

Linda's eyes slowly widened, and her mouth opened slightly. "Sankta fek," she whispered.

"Linda," Superman admonished her, looking at his cousin in shock.

"Sorry, Clark," Linda said quickly. She saw Superman's face shift into a 'what are you doing?' expression, but the teenager waved her hand dismissively. "Look, he knows about you; I mentioned you when I was venting to him...as the owl." She glanced back at Gar, and there was a part of her that felt a little betrayed, but she also knew what it was like to hide a big secret. "So, uh…am I right in assuming you were the rat at Homecoming?"

"Yeah," Gar replied softly.

"And the crocodile that saved me yesterday?" Linda asked. Gar nodded, hanging his head, and Linda sighed. "Thank you." Gar looked up, a little surprised; Linda smiled a little. "You saved my life, Gar."

Gar looked a little relieved as he smiled slightly, a little embarrassed. "Hey, no sweat," he replied.

"I guess I'm no longer needed," Batman said, his voice low and sarcastic; he stood straight and turned quickly, his cape billowing behind him dramatically as he headed for the den.

"Sometimes," Alfred spoke up, "it does well to attract flies with honey, instead of vinegar," he glanced briefly at Gar, "if you'll pardon the metaphor—Master Bruce." Batman stopped in his tracks, and everyone but Gar stared in shocked amusement at the realization that Alfred has just ousted Bruce's identity.

"Bruce?" Gar asked, glancing between Batman and Alfred; it took him a few moments before it hit him, and his eyes grew wide. "As in Bruce Wayne?" He slowly grinned excitedly. "Whoa, that's awesome." Batman didn't respond as he marched off, leaving the living room; Gar's smile faded. "Uh…is he going to be okay?"

"Don't worry about Master Bruce," Alfred reassured the teen. "That's actually him in a **good** mood." Gar looked a little unconvinced but decided not to ask any more questions about that.

"I'd hate to see him in a **bad** mood," Gar muttered.

"So are you a Durlan?" Linda asked suddenly, her eyes dancing with a little excitement. "Teiresiae? Vuldarian? Farfarmniflatch?"

"Uh…none of the above?" Gar asked, furrowing his eyebrows, confused.

"You wouldn't be Martian, would you?" Superman asked.

"Do I look green to you?" Gar asked, a little insulted. Superman raised an eyebrow, and Gar shrunk back a little. "Uh, I mean…I'm human, actually."

"So, what happened?" Linda asked.

"Well, my parents are scientists," Gar explained, "and when I was younger, they used to travel all over the world, doing consulting work and special projects for different companies; when I was eight, we moved to the Congo so they could research plants for a pharmaceutical comp—" He suddenly stopped and pursed his lips. "You know what? Here's the abridged version: traveled with scientist parents around the world, ended up in the Congo when I was eight, got bit by a monkey with a deadly virus, parents developed a serum from the monkey to save my life. Life saved, but we found out monkey was exposed to unknown alien technology and gave me the ability to shape-shift into different animals. Parents freaked a little, calmed down, and we continued on with our lives; moved out here about three years ago for a little quiet and stability," he glanced at Linda, smirking a little, "which, I have a feeling I probably won't be seeing much of."

Linda smiled a little. "Why animals?" she asked.

Gar shrugged. "Beats me," he replied, "but, as you've seen, it has its advantages."

"Like spying on people?" Jonathan asked, frowning. "Maybe teenage girls, for instance?"

"Jonathan," Martha said gently.

"I wasn't spying on Linda, I swear," Gar protested.

"Then how did you know to go to Riley Field?" Jonathan demanded. "Or that she'd been kidnapped?"

"I saw her and Dick talking in the gym," Gar answered then he quickly glanced at Dick. "Uh, the other one, not him. Linda looked very serious, and I figured it was **really** serious, but I wanted to make sure she'd be okay…so I turned into an owl and followed them to Riley Field. I overheard them talking, and decided to help, so I dive bombed and changed into a rat to help gnaw through the ropes. Same thing for when I visited her as the owl: she'd had a really bad day, and I wanted to know she was okay," he shrugged, "I had no idea she'd tell me she was an alien, and I didn't tell anyone—not even my parents; I know what it's like to have a big secret—and what would happen if the wrong people found out." He glanced over at Jonathan, and he saw the farmer's expression soften a little.

"And about her being kidnapped," Gar continued softly, "I was just leaving the school when I saw her being thrown into the trunk of a car by three people—she was unconscious—and then they got into the car and drove off. I knew I wouldn't have time to get help, so I changed into a peregrine falcon and flew after them. I'd figured I'd help her when they stopped—you know, change into a grizzly bear or something, make them think I was gonna maul 'em or something—and then they stopped on the Loeb Bridge, and threw her over. I freaked and dove down toward the water; changed into the crocodile and dragged her out."

"That would explain the scream I head right before hitting the water," Linda mused, then she sighed. "So, how did you know to get rid of the kryptonite?"

"I'm going to assume you mean the green glowing rock taped to you," Gar said, "and, to be honest, I didn't know why they did that…and then I saw how Clark reacted when he got close. I mean, he's Superman, but when he stepped toward you, he looked a little sick; you were already unconscious, so I figured the rock was the problem—would explain why you were unconscious and bleeding—so I just grabbed it and left as quickly as I could so that Superman could help you."

"Is that why you came out here?" Linda asked. "To make sure I was okay?" Gar nodded, looking a little embarrassed, and Linda smiled. "Well, I'm fine, thank you," Gar smiled a little, "though it might be best—for future references—not to come as an animal that will get you shot because it tends to prey on our livestock."

Gar's cheeks turned bright pink. "So, uh, can I ask you something?" Linda nodded. "I thought you were supposed to be, you know, bullet-proof or something…why the bruise?"

"It was her first time exposed to kryptonite," Martha explained. "She should be back to full strength tomorrow."

"So, you stepped between me and a bullet," Gar said slowly to Linda, looking upset, "and you **knew** you weren't totally bulletproof?"

"Well…," Linda said slowly, "yeah, but I figured I was probably more bulletproof than you are."

"Are you freaking out of your mind?" Gar exploded. "You could have gotten killed!"

"And you wouldn't have?" Linda retorted as she sat up straighter, still holding the ice pack; her shoulder throbbed with pain, and she winced and leaned back against the couch. "Filo de hundio."

"Linda," Superman admonished her.

"Sorry," Linda replied, carefully massaging the area around the bruise; she winced a little.

"Here," a gruff voice said. Everyone looked over and saw Bruce coming in, dressed in a pair of jeans and a snug black shirt; he held a device that looked like a large silver flashlight in his right hand. Wordlessly, he sat on Linda's other side and aimed the flashlight at her shoulder. He pressed a small button with this thumb, turning it on; a bright, yellow light bathed Linda's shoulder. The teenager was surprised at how soothing the light felt, the energy penetrating into her bruise, easing the pain; she glanced down and was surprised to see her bruise quickly fading. In less than twenty seconds, Linda's shoulder was completely healed; she gingerly moved her shoulder in a small circle with ease.

"Thanks," Linda said, trying not to sound too surprised. "Uh, what is—"

"Portable solar generator," Bruce replied curtly as he turned it off, then looked over at Gar. "Where is it?"

"Uh, where's what?" Gar asked, trying not to look nervous.

"The rock," Bruce replied. "Where did you take it?"

"I hid it under my bed," Gar answered. "I have a small trunk; it's buried under some comic books. You want me to get it?"

"Bring it by tomorrow morning," Bruce answered as he got to his feet. "Nine o'clock." He headed back to the den without saying another word.

"Well, I guess I better get home before my parents freak out," Gar said slowly.

"Do they know you're even here?" Martha asked.

Gar slowly shook his head. "I didn't know what I was going to tell them," he said, "but they know I like to spend some time flying out around," he smiled at Linda, "which we are **so** gonna have to do one day."

"And when my flying ability comes in," Linda amused, "sure." Gar furrowed his eyebrows, confused, and Linda chuckled. "I'll explain tomorrow, okay?" She glanced over at the kitchen door, focusing; the door opened on its own accord. She looked back at Gar, who gaped at the door, and she smiled. "Now, go home."

Gar raised an eyebrow, very curious, but he slowly smiled and nodded. His features suddenly shifted and changed, and in an instant Gar had changed into a barn owl; he quickly took off, gracefully flying through the door and disappearing into the night.

(End of Chapter 7)


	8. Chapter 8

It was a little after one in the morning, and Linda quietly padded down the stairs, carefully to avoid the creaky spot near the bottom. She tiptoed softly over to the refrigerator and opened the door; the soft yellow light was inviting as she pulled out the mostly-full bottle of milk on the top shelf. She nudged the door shut with her foot as she untwisted the cap. She set the cap on the counter and easily gulped down half the bottle, wiping the mustache on her upper lip, smiling as the rich, creamy flavors hit her taste buds; she didn't need to eat to get her nourishment, but she definitely appreciated the emotions associated with food and drink. She leaned against the counter, sighing softly.

A sound outside jarred Linda from her thoughts; she squinted her eyes slightly as she stared at the wall, and it appeared to effortlessly dissolve. She saw Jimmy on the other side, her back facing him as he leaned against the porch rail. She quickly switched back to normal vision and—still clutching the milk bottle—as she quietly padded over to the kitchen and opened the door.

"Jimmy?" she said softly. Jimmy looked over, startled from his stupor, and Linda winced a little. "Sorry, I didn't mean to disturb you."

"You didn't," Jimmy reassured her. "I didn't wake you, did I?"

Linda shrugged as she came out and closed the door behind her. "Lot on my mind," she said, "and Clark, unfortunately, sounds like a semi downshifting on the interstate."

"Yeah, sorry about that," Jimmy apologized, shrugging a little.

"Why are you apologizing?" Linda asked.

"If I wasn't here," Jimmy replied, "Clark would be sleeping on the couch, and you'd be sound asleep."

"As I recall, it was my parents who said they didn't want you on the road so late," Linda pointed out, "and your mother agreed." She shrugged. "And it's not like I need that much sleep, really; two hours to me is like an eight-hour sleep to you." She held up the milk bottle. "Want some?"

"Thanks," Jimmy replied as he took the offered gift and took a few gulps; he smacked his lips a little, smiling. "That's good." He handed the bottle back to her. "So, you're feeling better?"

Linda nodded. "I think an hour or two in the sun should be what I need to fully charge." She leaned against the rail next to Jimmy. "So, why are you up?"

"Nothing, really," Jimmy replied, turning back to look out into the darkness.

Linda raised an eyebrow. "You were awfully quiet when Gar was here," she said gently, "and you didn't say much after he left, either."

"Just trying to figure out how to say I admit defeat," Jimmy replied.

Linda furrowed her eyebrows. "What are you talking about?"

"The guy can turn into any animal he wants to," Jimmy replied, "and—on top of that—he saved your life." He stared at her with a 'duh' expression, like she should know what he's talking about.

Linda looked at him, completely confused, but then she suddenly realized what he was talking about; she sighed. "You know Gar and I are just friends, right?" she asked. Jimmy didn't appear convinced. "So, what, you think that because we both have special powers, we should hook up?"

"Well, you'd certainly have more to talk about," Jimmy muttered.

"You really think I'm looking to hook up with a guy who has powers?" Linda asked, looking a little hurt.

"No, of course not," Jimmy said. "I just thought you might have more in common, that's all."

"Jimmy, I've lived most of my life without any powers," Linda replied. She glanced over her shoulder and saw a few metal garden rods leaning against the wall near the steps; she handed the bottle to Jimmy, walked over, and grabbed a rod. "I'm still getting used to the fact that I can do this." She took the rod and effortlessly twisted it into a loop, then just as easily untwisted it, returning it to its normal shape.

"I can understand why," Jimmy said slowly in awe.

"The point is," Linda said as she returned the rod to where she'd grabbed it, "just because I just found out my friend has powers doesn't change how I feel about him; Gar is my friend. Period." She leaned against the rail next to Jimmy, who still looked unconvinced. "I mean, think about it this way: Amy cared about the Doctor; he was exciting, they traveled everywhere and had adventures together, but who did she end up with?"

"Rory," Jimmy replied slowly.

"And who was Rory?" Linda asked.

"The boring one," Jimmy answered.

Linda snorted. "The guy was Amy's best friend," she said. "He didn't push her or coerce her into liking him; he didn't need to. He just waited until—'penny in the air, penny drops'—she realized she didn't need the TARDIS, the aliens, the adventures—or even the Doctor himself; she just needed him."

"You know, he died several times in between," Jimmy pointed out.

"Yeah, but he faced an entire Cyberman army with just a sword," Linda countered, "and punched Hitler **and** stuffed him in a cupboard," she tilted her head a little, "and when she had the choice to stay with the Doctor…she let an Weeping Angel send her back in time so she could be with Rory—knowing she'd never see the Doctor again." She shrugged. "I just want my own Rory—and I seriously doubt he's going to have superpowers."

Jimmy thought about what she said, and he pursed his lips, sighing. "So, do you think you're ever gonna tell Malverne?" he asked after a few moments. "I mean, the truth…about you—again?"

Linda shrugged. "I don't know," she replied. "I mean, I still hate myself for wiping his mind. It freaks me out that I have the capability to do that—and I'm not even at full power yet." Her features darkened slightly. "And being attacked yesterday was just another reminder that I may look human, but I'm not."

Jimmy could hear the bitterness in her voice and put a hand on her shoulder. "You know," he said gently, "kryptonite **does** affect humans, too."

"Not the way it affects Clark and me," Linda replied glumly, shaking her head slightly. "And most of my friends don't even know what happened."

Jimmy looked at her sympathetically, then he held out the milk bottle to her. She gave him a grateful smile before grabbing it and downing the rest of it. She smacked her lips, satisfied, then glanced at Jimmy; he stared at her, eyebrows raised, and Linda suddenly felt her cheeks grow hot as she adverted her eyes.

"I'm gonna guess you go through a cow's worth of milk per day?"

Linda looked back at Jimmy and saw him smiling, amused. She slowly smiled back, chuckling. "More like a cow per meal," she replied. The two just stared at each other for a few moments, then laughed softly before turning their attention back to the night sky.

* * *

The next morning, Gar had showed up at the farm promptly at nine—after calling ahead to let them know he was on his way. Clark and Linda had been relegated to the barn until Bruce had finished his research and the kryptonite was safely stored. Clark didn't mind the temporary quarantine too much-he busied himself with doing a few repairs on the tractor. Linda, on the other hand, tried to focus on painting, but her mind quickly drifted to all the possibilities of what was going on; she soon abandoned her project and walked over to the loft rail, staring intently in the direction of the house.

"I don't think so."

Linda looked down and saw Clark glancing up at her from near the tractor; he had his eyebrows raised, smiling. "Come on, Clark, just one peek," she said.

"No," Clark replied before going back to his work.

"Why not?" Linda whined before she jumped over the rail. Her knees bent as she landed on the hard ground below, but she quickly straightened up like nothing had happened. "I can take a little look; no one will know." Clark glanced at her, knowingly, and Linda sighed. "Okay, okay."

"Be patient," Clark said. "They'll come and get us when they're done."

"Look, I know you trust Bruce," Linda replied as she walked over to the tractor and sat beside her cousin, watching him work, "but do you really trust him enough to let him be in charge of an investigation involving the one thing that can kill us?"

Clark stopped working and turned to his cousin, looking very serious. "I trust him so much," he said, "that I gave him a small piece of it over a year ago."

Linda looked shocked and confused. "Why?"

"Because there have been times when I've been…out of control," Clark replied. He didn't like talking about those times, but it was something Linda needed to hear. "That small piece of rock was the only thing that was able to stop me."

"What about Mom and Dad?" Linda asked. "I mean, I know about the piece they keep in the hall closet."

"Because I know from personal experience how much it would hurt them to use it against me," Clark replied, "even if we all knew it was necessary." He shrugged a little. "Bruce has no problem using kryptonite against me if necessary."

"That's comforting," Linda replied sarcastically.

Clark smiled a little. "Look, I know you don't care much for him," he said, "but the one thing you can do is trust him."

"Even if he doesn't trust **me** ," Linda replied, slightly annoyed. Clark sighed, almost like he was trying to be patient, but Linda wasn't going to back down. "Clark, you told me he was contemplating taking me away from you because he didn't trust me—and the only reason he didn't was because you said the League could monitor me; I don't exactly call that trust."

"Believe me," Clark said, nodding in agreement, "I had a few words with them—Bruce especially—about that; the only reason I allowed it was to show them you had nothing to hide."

"I know," Linda mumbled, pulling her legs to her, resting her chin on her knees, "but I didn't ask for any of this."

Clark put an arm around her shoulders, sighing. "There are times that I don't like it either," he replied, "but it comes with the territory of being," he shrugged, "well, us."

"I know," Linda said, "but it just seems like Bruce is picking on me because I'm not you."

"Actually, Bruce picks on everyone equally," Clark joked. Linda didn't even crack a smile, and the reporter sighed; he could see the frustration written all over her face—the same frustration he had dealt with for years. "Look, I know you think Bruce is being a jerk, but he actually respects you more than you might think."

"Right," Linda said, unconvinced.

"If he didn't," Clark continued, "he wouldn't have spent most of his first night here fixing your glasses," he saw the flicker in her eyes, "and he wouldn't have used that solar generator to heal your shoulder."

Linda stared ahead, and Clark could tell she was mulling what he had just told her. "He's still a grumpy ass," she replied after a few moments.

"No argument there," Clark replied, smiling a little; he was relieved Linda finally returned the smile and leaned over to kiss her forehead. "How about after this whole thing is over, I talk to Mom and Dad and see if they'll let you have a small party with your friends?"

"Didn't you get into trouble when you had a 'small party' with **your** friends?" Linda asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Only because Chloe and Pete didn't agree with my definition of 'small party,'" Clark replied, "and I didn't tell Mom and Dad about the whole thing."

"Yeah, they told me how long it took to get the plumbing fixed," Linda asked, amused.

"Well, **if** they say it's okay," Clark continued, "I was thinking only a few people—no more than ten; it could be a Halloween party—so you can have everyone come in costumes, and you could have it here in the barn."

Linda glanced up, looking around the barn; she tilted her head, thinking, then slowly got to her feet, keeping her gaze upward. Clark watched her eyes dance with a new spark, and he knew she was already planning things out.

"Can it be a Doctor Who theme?" she asked excitedly.

"Why don't we first see if Mom and Dad approve the idea?" Clark asked, smiling, "after we get through this investigation."

"And how long do you think that will take?" Linda asked.

"Sooner than you might think."

Clark and Linda turned their heads and saw Bruce standing just inside the barn. He appeared serious, but Clark recognized the slight hint of a smile on the businessman's face; he put his tools aside and stood up.

"What did you find?" Clark asked.

"Something very…informative," Bruce answered, glancing briefly at Linda.

(End of Chapter 8)


	9. Chapter 9

"What is that?" Clark asked as he furrowed his eyebrows, arms crossed. He stood with the others around the kitchen table, peering at Bruce's laptop; an extremely magnified set of numbers, embedded in what appeared to be green glass, appeared on the screen.

"Serial numbers," Bruce answered. "I had my suspicions when Gar arrived." He pressed a key on the keyboard, and the image switched to a picture of the rock itself. "The rock used against Linda has been cut and polished," he pressed another key, showing the numbers again, "then it was given this laser inscription; it's a common practice among owners to help identify stolen gems. I've never seen it on kryptonite before, but then again, most people don't keep kryptonite."

"Unless you're Lex Luthor," Jonathan muttered as he glanced over at the lead box on the counter, disgusted. He knew Bruce promised to take it with him when he left—and the farmer knew Bruce would keep it secure—but that time couldn't come fast enough.

"True, but this isn't his," Bruce replied. "I traced this rock to a dig site near Giza, and Luthor hasn't made any purchases from the region in months—I checked; this rock was bought about ten months ago."

"'Giza'?" Jimmy asked. "As in 'Great Pyramids of Egypt' Giza?"

Bruce nodded. "Quite close to them, actually," he said.

"How did kryptonite wind up in Egypt?" Martha asked.

"Not sure," Bruce replied. "Reports from the site said that it'd been found in a previously-unknown dig site—one that archeologists say dates back to at least around the time the pyramids were built."

"That's impossible," Clark said. "Kryptonite came from Krypton's explosion—and that happened less than thirty years ago."

"We can save that for later," Bruce replied. "The good news is the sample used on Linda was the only sample found in that particular region—made it easy to trace the buyer."

"So, who bought it?" Clark asked.

Bruce tapped a few keys on the keyboard, and a profile appeared on the screen, complete with a photo. "Frederick Brighten," Bruce answered. "1297 Welsh Road—right here in Smallville."

"Brighten?" Gar asked, eyes widening a little as he glanced slowly at Linda.

"Does he have a daughter?" Linda asked suddenly, furrowing her eyebrows, looking unnerved.

Bruce raised an eyebrow, but he quickly skimmed the profile. "One daughter," he replied after a few moments. "Cecilia—attends Smallville High." He glanced at Linda as she stared at the screen. "You know her."

"We both do," Gar replied, stunned. "She's the head cheerleader," he cleared his throat, "and she doesn't like Linda; in fact, she hates her—and the entire school knows it, too."

"Why does she hate you?" Bruce asked Linda.

"Because I beat her in an art contest," Linda replied.

"Don't forget that little confrontation in the hall after you got the football players arrested," Gar added.

"What confrontation?" Jonathan asked, folding his arms.

"Thanks, Gar," Linda replied, giving him a look, but he didn't see it.

"Man, you should have seen it," Gar continued, smiling. "It was the day after the football players got expelled, Cecilia confronted Linda about it at her locker, threw a few insults—and a punch—but Linda held her own and mopped the floor with her…metaphorically, speaking."

"Linda, why didn't you say anything?" Martha asked.

"Because it was nothing, really," Linda replied, "and that was also the day Jimmy decided to make a surprise visit to the school." She glanced at Jimmy and saw him shuffling his feet, looking a little embarrassed. [Sorry, Jimmy, not trying to oust you.]

[I know] Jimmy replied, smiling a little. [It's okay.]

Linda smiled a little, brushing some hair from her face; she cleared her throat, looking back at Bruce. "So, like I said, it was nothing, really. Cecilia hates me, but she wouldn't try to kill me over an art contest or what happened because of the football players."

"You'd be surprised what people would kill over," Bruce said.

"Yeah, well, this isn't Gotham," Linda retorted, then glanced at Clark as he opened his mouth, "or even Metropolis. I mean if there was anyone I suspected in my attack, it would be Darrien or the football players I got expelled, but they're all in jail."

"At this point," Bruce replied, trying not to sound too annoyed, "we have a rock purchased by the father of a student who goes to your school—who you've admitted to having a very well-known hostility with. That rock has also been in Gar's possession for almost two days—and no one's reported it missing."

"Maybe they don't know it's missing," Gar suggested, "or maybe they asked the police not to say anything."

"Doubtful," Bruce replied. "If that rock was reported missing, Sheriff Ross would have been over here in a heartbeat to warn Clark and Linda."

Gar thought about that for a few moments; when he realized what Bruce was inferring, he pursed his lips and nodded in agreement. "Point taken," he replied.

"So, until there's any evidence to the contrarty," Bruce continued as he shut his laptop, "I'll be paying Miss Brighten a little visit."

"Now?" Clark asked, a little surprised. Bruce just stared at him, and Clark rolled his eyes. "Forget I asked."

"Can I come?" Linda asked hopefully. The adults just stared at her, and she held up her hands in defense. "Okay, okay." She smiled at her friends. "Well, I'm gonna go work on some art; I could use the company." She didn't wait for an answer as she blurred out of the house at super speed. Gar grinned and quickly shifted into a chimpanzee before scampering out, chattering excitedly.

"I'm just gonna walk out like a **normal** human being," Dick replied, trying not to laugh—mostly because of the reactions he saw on the adults faces; he glanced at Jimmy. "What do you say, Olsen?"

"After you, Grayson," Jimmy replied, smiling as well. The two teens headed out of the kitchen, and the photographer closed the door behind him.

"Is anyone else contemplating how much trouble those four are going to end up getting into?" Clark asked, trying hard not to smile; the four adults glanced at him, eyebrows raised, and the reporter couldn't help but snicker.

* * *

"That is so cool," Gar said in awe as he sat backwards on a folding chair, resting his head on the back, while Dick sat in another chair beside him, lounging in a relaxed position, his arms crossed; Jimmy rested on the couch, leaning against the back. All three of them watched as Linda stood in the center of the loft, arms folded, focusing on the sketchpad and pencil floating in midair, with the pencil flying across the paper as if being held by an invisible hand.

"How exactly are you doing that?" Dick asked, intrigued.

Linda shrugged. "Don't know, just do," she replied. "It's just a part of me…just like all of my other powers."

"So, what's the biggest object you've moved so far?" Gar asked.

"That would be most of the equipment in the Smallville foundry," Jimmy answered, smiling, "when she single-handedly took out Rudy Jones—after he'd taken Clark's powers."

"Yeah, I remember Bruce mentioning that," Dick said, smiling, "but he didn't mention the juicy details…so, come on, Linda; give."

"Oh, it was totally awesome," Jimmy said proudly. "She put up this invisible shield to keep him from touching her—which also blocked his heat vision—and then she tossed him aside and pummeled him with equipment he'd used up all of his energy."

"Well, that's gonna come in handy," Gar replied, impressed, "especially if you can stop forms of energy."

"Yeah, that's not gonna happen a lot," Linda said. She glanced at Jimmy, and she saw his slightly troubled expression, and she knew he was remembering exactly what had happened to her.

"Why not?" Dick asked curiously.

"Let's just say it expends a lot of energy," Linda answered after a few moments, glancing quickly at Jimmy before walking over to the loft window and staring out.

Gar and Dick glanced at each other, knowing she wasn't telling them the whole story, but they decided to drop it. Dick tilted his head, suddenly remembering something as he turned to Jimmy.

"Wait a minute," he said. "Bruce never mentioned you were there."

"He wasn't," Linda replied. "I…showed him what happened." Dick and Gar glanced between the two of them, confused. Linda glanced over at the two and smiled. "Telepathy."

"Sorta like a Vulcan mind meld?" Gar asked. Linda nodded, and Gar grinned. "Cool! Do me!"

"What?" Linda asked, smiling.

"Mind meld with me," Gar said.

"Whoa, whoa," Jimmy replied in a mock protectiveness, "you don't just ask a lady to mind meld with you; that's rude."

"How about later?" Linda asked, smiling.

"Alrighty," Gar said, "so let's talk about your other abilities: you already got strength, speed, bulletproofness, x-ray vision, heat vision—plus the telekinesis and telepathy—which leaves—"

"Superbreath, superhearing, and flying," Jimmy finished with a smile, ticking a finger off for each ability.

"I can't wait for that last one," Linda said as she walked over to the open loft window, staring up at the sky; she smiled a little as a flock of geese flew overhead, heading south, "which Clark and I calculated will be coming in sometime next year."

"So, uh, does that mean you're gonna be expanding your wardrobe to include a little spandex, then?" Gar asked.

"What?" Linda asked, turning around in shock; her sketchpad and pencil suddenly dropped to the floor. Everyone glanced at the objects before Linda tilted her head; the sketchpad and pencil floated up and over to her desk, landing softly on it. Linda glanced back at Gar. "Are you crazy?"

"Actually, it's a legitimate question," Dick spoke up. "You got powers like Clark's, you've already got a couple of battles under your belt…and you are **definitely** not the type who'll just sit by when people need help."

"Points taken," Linda replied, "but I'm not even sixteen. Beside the fact that Clark and my parents will freak out if I go public, no one will take a teenager seriously—powers or no powers."

"No one took Superman seriously when he first showed up," Jimmy pointed out, "or Batman, Wonder Woman, the Flash or any of the other heroes out there." He shrugged, grinning. "Besides, I think you'd look good in primary colors."

"Uh huh," Linda said, smiling as she folded her arms. "Well, keep dreaming," she glanced over at Dick and Gar, who were also smiling, "you, too, guys, because the day you see me out there flying around in tights and a cape is the day I eat mustard—and I don't see **that** happening any time soon."

(End of Chapter 9)


	10. Chapter 10

Night had fallen over Smallville as Cecilia stepped out the front door of her house, wearing a black sparkly halter with a matching pleated micro skirt, black knee socks, and black on white saddle shoes; her hair was styled into two curly pigtails, held in place with red ribbons. The gold and diamond tennis bracelet on her right wrist sparkled from the streetlights as she opened her black clutch and rummaged for her car keys; she pulled them out as she reached the driver's side of red Lexus convertible parked on the curb.

"Going somewhere?"

Cecilia quickly turned around and saw a dark figure standing right in front of her. He wore a dark, armored suit and boots—complete with a black belt, cowl and cape; he stared at the teenager, his eyes narrowed. Cecilia's eyes widened in horror as she turned around, intending to run, but she found herself staring at Superman; he glared down at her, his arms folded.

"What do you want?" Cecilia asked, gasping, her heart pounding as she backed against her car. "I didn't do anything!"

"Now, why would you say that?" Batman asked.

"Unless you actually **did** do something," Superman added.

Batman leaned in toward the teenager, stopping a few inches from her face. "Why don't you just save everyone the trouble and talk," he said, his voice low.

"About what?" Cecilia asked softly.

"About why you tried to kill Linda Kent," Batman replied.

Cecilia glanced at Superman quickly then looked back at Batman. "I don't know what you're talking about," she said.

"Don't lie to me," Batman said through clenched teeth as he edged closer. "I hate it when people lie to me."

"Yeah, then he gets **really** cranky," Superman added.

"You attacked Linda after school in the parking lot on Friday," Batman said. "You kidnapped her, taped a meteor rock on her chest, and threw her into the Elbow River. We traced the meteor rock to your father—who hasn't reported it stolen. Why is that?"

Cecilia shook her head. "I don't know—" Batman edged closer, and the teenager could have sworn she heard a small rumble in his throat; she whimpered a little in fear, her eyes darting between the two heroes, and her chin quivered. "Okay, okay, I did it!" she said, almost in tears.

"Why?" Batman demanded.

"Because that little bitch deserved it!" Cecilia answered. "Things were fine until she showed up, but then she wouldn't leave well enough alone: she got first place in the art contest I should have won, and then she couldn't mind her own business with the Scarecrow and ended up getting our star players expelled."

"Seriously?" Superman asked, frowning in disbelief as his eyes flashed with anger; he took a step toward her. "You tried to kill her over an art contest and football?!"

"Who helped you?" Batman asked, shifting himself slightly between Superman and Cecilia.

"You think I'm gonna turn on my friends?" Cecilia asked. Batman narrowed his eyes, growling, and the girl's heart skipped a beat. "Amy Poland and Kristi Robertson, but it wasn't our idea, honest."

Batman reached into a compartment on his belt and pulled out a small recorder. "Tell us everything," he said before pushing the 'record' button.

* * *

Liam Bounder walked along the exterior of the long brown motel building, whistling softly; he wore a blue button down shirt, khaki slacks, and dark brown loafers. He stopped in front of a door with a sixty-nine on it and reached into his pocket, pulling out a room key; he stuck it in the lock and twisted it when he suddenly found himself heading skyward. He shouted loudly in fear, his arms and legs flailing as the ground zoomed away from him, his stomach clenched tightly.

After a few seconds, he suddenly lurched to a stop, and Liam stared down at the ground thousands of feet below him, his heart pounding, gasping loudly. He felt something holding onto him, and he slowly craned his head; Superman floated behind him, glaring at the businessman as he held him by the back of his shirt.

"Superman!" Liam yelped in fright.

"I'm only going to say this one time," Superman replied, his voice deadly serious. "I'm going to ask you some questions, and you're going to answer them—truthfully; if you don't, then I'm going to get **really** cranky. Why did you want Linda Kent dead?"

"I don't know what you're talking about," Liam said, panting.

"Wrong answer," Superman replied before letting go of Liam's shirt.

Liam shouted loudly as he plummeted toward the earth like a rock. Superman just stared down at him, arms folded. After a few seconds, he zoomed down after the man and promptly caught him by his ankles; Liam gave a small 'oof,' the wind knocked out of him as he dangled.

"Try again," Superman said, "but remember this: I'm usually a good catcher, but I have been known to **miss** on occasion."

"What do you want to know?" Liam wheezed, the blood rushing to his head.

"Why you wanted Linda Kent dead," Superman replied.

"It was to send them a message," Liam wheezed, the blood rushing to his head.

"Who?" Superman demanded.

"Those two punks who roughed up my son," Liam replied, "and Clark Kent." Superman looked a little confused. "They humiliated me and my son—they had to pay. Linda Kent was the one thing they all had in common: she's Kent's cousin, and my son told me Malverne and that Olsen punk both had a thing for her. If something happened to her, it'd be like getting even with all three of them at once."

Superman ground his teeth and narrowed his eyes, his blood boiling. "So, instead of facing one reporter and two teenage boys, you went after an innocent teenage girl…by getting another teenager to do your dirty work—all because you couldn't keep it in your pants." He saw Liam's face pale by three shades. "Yeah, I know everything: after your wife left you last month you befriended Cecilia Brighten. You saw how much she hated Linda Kent, but—more importantly—she was attractive and under twenty, huh?"

"Th-th-there's nothing illegal about what we did," Liam stammered. "It's not like she's a minor."

"Well, no, that is true," Superman replied, shrugging. "Technically, it's not **illegal** for a married man in his late forties to sleep with an eighteen year old—it's just extremely disgusting, and I'm tempted to cauterize a few things myself right now." He glared down at Liam. "What made this whole thing illegal is when you asked Cecilia to kill Linda Kent for you—and she agreed if you did something for her." He let go of one of Liam's ankles and reached down, grabbing the front of Liam's shirt with his free hand; he let go of the other ankle and quickly pulled Liam up until the businessman was nose to nose with the hero. "Is that what a person's life is worth to you? An eight thousand dollar tennis bracelet?"

"It was n-n-nothing personal," Liam said softly.

"The Kents are my friends," Superman growled softly. "It **is** personal." He let go of Liam's shirt. For a split second, the businessman's eyes widened in fear; the sound of his scream slowly faded as he plummeted like a stone toward the ground.

(End of Chapter 10)


	11. Chapter 11

Linda leaned against her desk chair, resting her arms and head on the back as she watched Dick and Jimmy; they sat on her bed, using a variety of tools to fiddle with a bunch of wires, circuits, and electronics. Krypto and Streaky were passed out on the floor in their pet bed, curled up and nuzzled against each other.

"So, you really think this'll work?" Linda asked.

"Should," Dick replied as he used a pair of clippers to strip part of a wire, exposing the copper underneath.

"Still can't believe they kicked us upstairs," Jimmy muttered as he wrapped a couple of wires around each other.

"Only means whatever they're talking about is **really** juicy," Dick replied as he grabbed a pair of needle-nosed pliers and began working on a circuit board, "and the sooner we get this working, the sooner we can figure out exactly what happened during Bruce and Clark's interrogation."

"I still think superhearing would be better," Linda muttered.

"Well, until you get that," Jimmy replied, smiling a little, "this'll have to do."

Linda stuck her tongue out at him. "You know," she said, amused, "even though I've seen Jimmy successfully hotwire a vehicle, I'm not sure if I should be impressed or frightened that either of you can make an eavesdropping device out of," she motioned her hand at everything on her bed, "this."

"Yeah, just call us MacGyver," Jimmy replied, grinning.

"Who?" Linda asked, confused. Dick and Jimmy glanced at each other, then snickered; Linda bristled a little. "Hey, no making in-jokes if you're not going to let me in on them; that's not fair."

"Nope, but it's funny," Dick replied, suppressing a smile.

"You're hilarious," Linda muttered.

"And done, too," Dick said, twisting a wire a few times.

Linda stared at the device he and Jimmy held up—a large circuit board with a wire leading to an antenna-like structure on one side, and three long wires connected to three makeshift earpieces on the other. She tried to figure out how it might work, but quickly decided to take the 'ignorance is bliss' route instead. "Does it work?" she asked.

"Let's try it out and see," Jimmy said. The trio quickly headed to the center of the room and knelt down on the floor. Dick handed each of them an earpiece, and they put them snugly in their ears. Jimmy carefully positioned the antenna on the floor, pointing it down before flipping a switch on the circuit board, powering the device; there was a bit of garble, but Dick slightly adjusted a knob on the board.

"….don't know what's more disgusting." The trio recognized Martha's voice instantly; she sounded calm, but the trio recognized the controlled anger in her voice. "Liam having an affair with Ceclia, or Cecilia trying to kill Linda for an eight thousand dollar piece of junk."

The trio glanced at each other, furrowing their eyebrows; they certainly hadn't expected to hear that. They held their earpieces closer, listening harder.

"No more disgusting than a grown man targeting a teenage girl in the first place," Jonathan said, his own voice laced with anger and disgust. "Pete, please tell me he won't be getting out of jail any time soon."

"With a recorded **and** signed confession," Pete replied, "Bounder won't be bothering anyone for a long time." He paused. "You weren't referring to that, were you, sir?"

"He tried to have my daughter killed because he was mad at Clark, Jimmy, and Dick," Jonathan replied. "What do you think?"

"Gotcha," Pete replied.

"He's talking about Dick Malverne, right?" Dick whispered to Linda.

Linda nodded, then glanced at Jimmy, who appeared bothered. "Jimmy, are you okay?" she asked softly.

"I'm fine," Jimmy replied curtly.

"Dude, you're a horrible liar," Dick muttered.

"Knock it off, Grayson," Jimmy said, frowning as he turned away from Linda.

Linda glanced at Dick, who didn't look the least affronted, then she looked back at Jimmy. "Jimmy, you're not blaming yourself for my attack, are you?" she asked.

"The guy couldn't touch me or Clark or Malverne," Jimmy replied, "and he knew it, so he targeted you—and convinced Cecilia to help him."

"Cecilia's hated me since the beginning of the school year," Linda said. "She didn't need much convincing—just a price." Jimmy glanced over at her and saw the hurt expression Linda tried unsuccessfully to hide; when their eyes met, she smiled sadly. "I guess the bright side in all this is that my value's gone up since I arrived: my biological father thought I was completely worthless."

"Well, seeing how your biological father was the last poop of Krypton and wanted to kill you," Jimmy replied, "do you honestly think his opinion really counts?"

"Did you just say 'last poop of Krypton'?" Dick asked, looking up, a little confused.

"Yeah, so?" Jimmy asked, shrugging. He glanced at Linda, and winked ever so slightly; she just stared at him, smiling in slight disbelief.

"Well, call me crazy," Dick replied, "but when you're on a stakeout, you're not supposed to be talking."

"That depends on which side of the stakeout you're on."

The teenagers froze at the sound of the baritone voice, their eyes widening. After a few moments, they slowly craned their heads up and saw Clark, Bruce, Martha, and Jonathan standing just inside the open doorway; Alfred and Pete were behind them, waiting outside the room.

"It was their idea," Linda said quickly, pointing to Dick and Jimmy.

"Just go and throw us under the bus," Jimmy muttered, but Linda saw his amused expression, and she knew he wasn't mad.

"What bus?" Linda asked, confused.

Dick shook his head, then cautiously glanced at the adults. "So, how did you know we were listening in?" he asked.

"Did you think I wouldn't know you'd try something like this?" Bruce asked, looking upset. He held up a small silver looking device the size of a credit card; Dick slowly closed his eyes, groaning.

"What is it?" Jimmy asked.

"It turns any receiving device into a transmitting device," Dick replied. He glanced at Bruce, wincing a little. "How much did you hear?"

"Everything from 'dude, you're a horrible liar'," Clark replied, "to 'last poop of Krypton.'" Jimmy's cheeks turned bright red as he glanced up; the reporter tried to appear stern, but Jimmy saw the corners of his mouth curled up slightly, and the photographer knew he was trying not to grin.

"So, how much did **you** three hear?" Jonathan asked.

"To be honest," Dick answered, "not much; Linda and Jimmy spent most of the time talking," he looked over at his friends, feigning annoyance, "so we didn't hear too much."

"Well, we did learn that Darrien's father has a thing for Cecilia's pompoms," Jimmy added amusedly as he shrugged. He saw the parental expressions on Jonathan's and Martha's faces, and the smile on his face slowly faded. "Sorry."

"Clark, why don't you take Jimmy back to Metropolis?" Martha suggested.

"Now?" Linda asked, a little disappointed.

"Yes," Martha answered. "It's getting late, and he has school tomorrow." Linda opened her mouth, but Martha held up a hand, stopping her. "So do you, young lady."

"And what about my car?" Jimmy asked, knowing better than to protest.

"I think I can manage you and your car, Jimmy," Clark replied, slightly amused.

Jimmy sighed, resigned. "Okay, okay," he said as he removed the earpiece and slowly got to his feet as Dick and Linda did the same. Jimmy glanced at Dick and held out his hand. "See you around."

"Yeah," Dick replied, shaking Jimmy's hand.

Jimmy glanced at Linda and opened his mouth, then stopped when he suddenly remembered they weren't alone; he took a deep breath and gave her a quick hug. "Take care," he whispered softly.

"Same here," Linda whispered, hugging him tightly. [Text me when you get home, okay?]

[Will do.]

Linda and Jimmy pulled back—their eyes meeting briefly—before Jimmy headed toward the door; Clark gave a small wave after Jimmy passed him, and the reporter turned and follwed him out of the room.

"Well, I better get going, too," Pete spoke up. "Word's probably gotten out already about what's happened, and that means tomorrow's gonna be hectic." He nodded at everyone before heading disappearing down the hall.

"And I believe it's Master Dick's bedtime," Alfred replied. "We have an early departure tomorrow morning." Dick groaned a little, but Alfred appeared unfazed. "Now, Master Dick."

"Okay, okay," Dick sighed before he glanced at Linda, holding out his hand. "Well, Linda, it's been," he smiled a bit, "different." His smile faded as Linda folded her arms, looking annoyed. "What?"

"After everything that's happened," Linda replied, "you think you're gonna get off that easily?" Before Dick could say anything, Linda threw her arms around his neck, hugging him tightly; Dick was a little startled at first, but he sighed and smiled as he hugged her back. "Thanks for everything."

"No sweat," Dick replied. They pulled away, and Dick headed for the door, glancing at Bruce; he was surprised to see the slightly amused expression in Bruce's eyes—even if his facial features didn't quite match. Dick hid a smile as he left the room, heading down the hallway.

"Goodnight, Miss Kent," Alfred said, bowing slightly. "It was a pleasure to meet you."

"Same here," Linda replied, smiling a little. She waited until Alfred had disappeared before she glanced at Bruce, who still appeared slightly annoyed, but the teenager was unfazed. "Well, I guess that only leaves you."

"Guess so," Bruce replied.

Linda took a deep breath. "Look, I'll save us both some time here: you probably still don't trust me—even if I think you're being extremely paranoid—but you helped find out who tried to kill me," she slowly held out out hand, "so I wanted to say thank you for that."

Bruce eyed the teenager for a few moments, eyebrow raised slightly, before he reached out and shook it. "You're welcome," he said. Smiling slightly, Linda opened her mouth, but Bruce quickly let go of her hand. "Don't push it." He turned and headed out of the room, leaving Linda alone with her parents.

"I think you're growing on him," Jonathan replied, a little amused. He glanced over at his daughter, who appeared troubled. "What's wrong?"

"Look, I know you didn't want us listening in on what happened with Darrien's father and Cecilia," Linda replied, "but there's something that's bothering—I mean, besides the whole wanting me dead thing," her face contorted briefly in disgust, "or Darrien's dad and Cecilia 'together.'"

"So, what do you want to know?" Martha asked.

"The kryptonite," Linda answered. "If neither of them knew how it affects Clark and me, then why use it in the first place?" She saw Jonathan and Martha glance at each other, and she sighed. "I'm not gonna like it, am I?"

"The kryptonite was used simply to weigh you down," Jonathan replied. "Cecilia told Bruce and Clark that she had no idea about the numbers etched on the stone—otherwise she wouldn't have used it." He walked over to Linda, putting a hand on her shoulder. "You okay?"

"Yeah," Linda replied sincerely, nodding. "I'll be fine," she smile a bit, "I promise." Her smile grew as he leaned over and kissed her forehead.

"You need to get ready for bed," Jonathan said. "I have a feeling you're going to have a busy day tomorrow once word gets out."

"I have a feeling you're right," Linda agreed. She suddenly tilted her head, thinking.

"What is it?" Martha asked, recognizing that look in her daughter's eyes.

"Just wondering if Clark'll be able to pick me up some black and purple eyeshadow after he takes Jimmy home," Linda replied.

"Do I want to know?" Jonathan asked, raising an eyebrow. Linda simply grinned.

(End of Chapter 11)


	12. Chapter 12

Jonathan leaned agasint the the porch rail, slowly sipping hot tea from his cow mug, staring out at the darkness. Both Martha and Linda were already sound asleep, and Jonathan himself didn't normally stay up past midnight, but tonight was one of the few nights when the farmer found himself more alert than if he'd just woken up from a restful night's sleep.

A slight whooshing sound interrupted the stillness, and Jonathan smiled a little, glancing up as Superman slowly descended, landing right on the walk; he held a small paper plastic grocery bag in one hand. He sighed as he headed up the porch steps.

"Jimmy get dropped off okay?" Jonathan asked.

Superman stopped and looked over, startled. "Hey, Dad," he said. "Uh, yeah, Jimmy's back at his place, safe and sound." He finished climbing the stairs. "What are you doing up?"

Jonathan smiled, amused. "Do I need an excuse to wait up for my son?" he asked.

Superman smiled a little. "No, sir," he said before spinning in a tight circle, changing into his civilian clothes before walking over.

"So, is that Linda's eye shadow?" Jonathan asked, eyeing the bag.

"Yeah," Clark replied. "Do you have any idea why she asked for it? It seems a little dark for her."

"Haven't a clue," Jonathan replied. He watched as Clark put the bag on the floor and leaned against the rail, staring up at the sky; even in the dark, the farmer saw the slightly despondent expression on his son's face. "What's wrong?"

"I've been thinking about earlier," Clark replied, "when I dropped Liam Bounder." Jonathan pursed his lips a little, nodding in understanding. "I know you don't approve of how I handled it."

"No," Jonathan said honestly, his voice remaining steady, "I don't, but it doesn't mean I don't understand why you did it; there were plenty of times when you were Linda's age where I was just as protective of you as you are of her."

Clark shook his head. "Dad, when I dropped him," he said, "I…hesitated; I actually was counting how long I could let him fall...and there was a moment—a brief one—where I thought it would be so much better for everyone if I," he took in a deep breath and let it out slowly, "didn't catch him."

Jonathan sighed and leaned against the rail beside his son. "But you still caught him," he said. "You put aside your personal feelings and did the right thing." Clark looked like he was going to say something, but Jonathan stopped him. "Son, having those feelings doesn't make you a bad person—it's how you deal with them. Some people choose to give in to those feelings, but it takes a much stronger person to **not** do that—and that is something to be proud of."

"Do you think Bruce is right?" Clark asked. "Am I letting my feelings for Linda cloud my better judgment?"

"Clark, you and Linda are the last of your kind," Jonathan replied, "and on top of that you're blood relatives; it's only natural you'd have a special bond—and it's perfectly understandable you'd be protective of each other. I think you treat Linda differently than everyone else, but that doesn't mean it's a bad thing, nor do I think it clouds your judgment." He put a hand on Clark's shoulder. "As for Bruce, I know he's already starting to see Linda differently, and the others will as well—once they get to know her," he raised an eyebrow, knowingly, "which might be something you should think about making happen."

"You think she's ready to meet them?" Clark asked.

"I think that's up to her," Jonathan answered, "but the longer you keep her isolated from your friends, the more they're going to wonder why." Clark nodded, and Jonathan smiled slightly as he patted his son on the back before they both looked back up at the night sky.

* * *

The next morning, Linda arrived at school way earlier than usual to avoid the hubbub that she knew was coming from the student body; she grabbed her books from her locker and made her way down the hall to the Torch. She cautiously peeked in through the open door of the Torch. In addition to the normal clutter of the room, Linda noticed the numerous empty Styrofoam coffee cups littering the desk and overflowing the trashcan on the floor. The young girl craned her head to the side and saw both Wally and Cutter passed out on the couch, their heads resting against the back, their mouths slightly open; Cutter had a little drool trickling down the side of his mouth, and both of them were snoring softly, their arms crossed, each holding a few sheets of printout.

Linda felt a twinge of guilt and then glanced over at their desks. Setting her backpack gently on the floor, she quietly walked over and began tidying up, carefully stacking all the empty coffee cups and gathering up the papers in a neat little pile. She then pressed the enter button on the nearest keyboard, getting rid of the 'Torch' screensaver on the monitor. A password window appeared in the center of the screen, with another window above it; Linda's eyes widened slightly when she saw the second window contained digital numbers—counting down from ten seconds.

"Oh, no," Linda replied softly as she watched the numbers quickly tick down. She stared helplessly at the screen, knowing she would never figure out the password in time; she closed her eyes, bracing herself, as the timer hit zero.

"HANDS OFF, CREEPIZOID!"

Linda covered her ears—thankful her super hearing hadn't kicked in yet—as the speakers blared at full volume. She slowly opened her eyes and glanced over as Wally and Cutter all but jumped off the couch and assumed defensive karate postures; their eyes were wide open, but the young girl could see how haggard they appeared.

"HANDS OFF, CREEPIZOID!"

The two quickly looked over at their desks as the words repeated loudly every two seconds and saw Linda standing in front of one of the computers, hands over her ears, staring at them apologetically. Wally scrambled over, his hands flying across the keyboard; the sounds immediately stopped.

"Sorry," Linda said as she removed her hands from her head. "I'm so sorry."

"What were you doing?" Cutter asked as he walked over.

"I came to see you guys," Linda said. "You were sleeping, so I thought I'd try to clean up a bit; I was going to turn your computer off, but then then that thing popped up, and what the heck was that anyway?"

"Security," Wally replied before he yawned loudly, stretching his arms over his head. "You wouldn't believe how many people try to snoop or kill a story around here when we're gone." He glanced over at Linda and finally noticed the purple bruise covering her nose. "And speaking of stories, I'm sure you have a whopper."

"Yes, I do," Linda replied, "and don't worry, the Torch will be getting an interview—my parents said it was okay as long as they were present."

"Screw the interview right now," Cutter said, wincing slightly at her injury. "Are you okay?"

Linda nodded. "I'm fine," she replied. "It's not broken or anything; in fact, it's already starting to fade, so it should be completely faded in a little over a week." She shrugged. "Honestly, I still can't wrap my head around the fact that Darrien's father and Cecilia have such a disregard for life that they would resort to attempted murder over something so…trivial."

"Yeah, it sucks," Wally said, "but, unfortunately, that's life." He gave a little smile. "Well, whatever the reason, we're glad you're okay," he raised an eyebrow, "but we'd really appreciate if you'd let us know that yourself instead of us hearing it over the police scanner."

"Sorry about that," Linda replied sincerely, "but in all fairness, Superman was in the middle of trying to figure how who my attackers were."

"Just Superman?" Cutter commented, raising an eyebrow.

"What do you mean?" Linda asked.

"Well, both Darrien's dad and Cecila were found bound and gagged," Cutter answered, "hanging from the water tower—thirty feet above the ground." He shrugged. "Doesn't seem to be Superman's style."

"But it **does** seem to be the style of a certain someone who has an affinity for bats," Wally remarked. Linda suddenly looked down and started twiddling her fingers, and Wally grinned. "I knew it."

"I'm not confirming or denying anything," Linda replied casually.

"Uh huh," Cutter said, slightly amused. "You know, all things aside, you sure you wanna be here today?"

"I'll be fine," Linda replied. "I handled the incident with the football players without too many issues," she shrugged, "and it's not like people really cared about Cecilia."

"I think he was talking about us."

Linda, Wally, and Cutter looked over and saw Andy, Mattie, and Buzz standing just inside the doorway; even though they appeared relieved, Linda also sensed a bit of anger emanating from the group—especially Mattie and Andy.

"Hi, guys," Linda said, trying to sound cheerful.

"You nearly die and don't tell us, and all you can say is 'hi, guys,'" Andy said, frowning a little as she and the others headed over. "Girl, if you didn't already have a head injury, I'd be giving you one right now."

"If it helps," Wally spoke up, "she was being isolated because Superman and Batman were investigating what happened."

"That has neither been confirmed or denied," Linda added quickly.

"We don't care if the entire freakin' Justice League was on the case," Mattie said, annoyed. "Our friend was attacked and nearly died—and we're just now finding out about it." She pointed a finger at Linda. "Linda, you do that again, and I will personally find you and kick your skinny little butt, you hear me?"

"Loud and clear," Linda said, wincing a little.

"That being said," Mattie said, her voice and expression softening before she leaned over and hugged her, "we're glad you're okay."

"Thanks," Linda replied, relieved. She saw something out of the corner of her eye and looked over. Dick stood in the doorway, staring at her, stunned; Linda smiled a little, even as her stomach fluttered with nerves. "Hey, Dick."

Dick wordlessly crossed the room and hugged Linda as tightly as he dared. "Are you okay?" he asked.

"I'm fine," Linda replied as she closed her eyes, hugging him back. "Honest." After a few seconds, they pulled apart, and Linda could see Dick didn't look convinced. "Dick, I'm really okay."

"I'm so sorry," Dick said. "When Cutter and Wally texted us and told us what had happened—and why…." He trailed off, shaking his head slightly.

"Don't blame yourself," Linda replied, putting a hand on his shoulder, "please." She smiled a little and was relieved to see Dick smile back and nodded a little.

"Now that's a Kodak moment." The group looked over and saw Gar as he leaned against the door frame, grinning. His smiled suddenly faded as he walked over, looking alarmed. "What happened to your nose?"

Linda nodded. "I'm fine," she answered, "and I'll be happy to explain everything later," she glanced briefly at everyone, "but right now I'd like to get to the art room and try to get some work done." Her eyes met Gar's, and she gave him a look.

"I'll come with you," Gar said. "I need to do some work myself." The two left the Torch, heading down the empty hall. "So, what exactly happened last night?" He glanced down at her when she didn't answer; she appeared sullen. "Hey, you okay?"

Linda nodded. "Yeah," she replied. "I just hate having to lie to them. I mean, their my friends."

"I know," Gar replied sincerely, "believe me, it sucks, but at least there's one person here you **don't** have to lie to." He gave her a small smile, and was relieved Linda returned it. "So, can I ask you something?"

"Sure," Linda said.

"What did you use for your nose?" Gar asked, nodding at her bruise.

"Black, purple, and brown eye shadow," Linda replied, "brown blush, and a lot of blending."

"Well, if I didn't already know the truth," Gar said, "I would have thought it was real." Linda smiled a little, but Gar could tell she still felt bad about lying to her friends; he put an arm around her shoulder. "Look, you wanna go for a run tonight? I think it might help clear your head, and I haven't been a cheetah for a long time."

Linda stopped and looked over at him; he grinned playfully at her. The young girl sighed and slowly smiled before leaning over to kiss his cheek. "I'd like that very much," she said. Still keeping his arm around her shoulder, the two friends continued down the hall.

(End of Chapter 12)


	13. Chapter 13

"I still can't believe Mom and Dad are going to let you wear that."

Linda looked at herself in the mirror in the loft, smiling as she turned to either side, examining her costume: a complete (and extremely authentic replica) of Amy Pond's Kiss-o-gram costume—short skirt and all—with a red wig styled in a tight bun and tucked under an authentic black bowler hat.

"I don't know, Clark," Linda said, admiring her reflection. "I think I actually look pretty good in this." She turned around, smiling. "Besides, they said it was okay for the party."

"Fine," Clark replied, "but no wearing skirts in public—especially not **that** short."

Linda grinned and saluted him. "Yes, sir," she replied. She checked herself one more time before bounding down the stairs to the ground floor and looking around.

The main area had been tidied up, the equipment pushed aside and into some of the empty stalls, to make room for life-size cardboard cutouts of the TARDIS, a red Dalek, a Cyberman, K-9, two Silurians, and Davros scattered around the area; TARDIS-blue-and-white streamers crisscrossed overhead. Near the entrance stood a long folding table draped with a TARDIS tablecloth; blue plastic dishware, utensils, cups, and napkins were situated on one end, leaving the rest of the table covered with platters and trays.

"You know, you haven't seen all the food I made," Linda said as she grabbed Clark's wrist and pulled him over to the table.

"I saw some of it," Clark said slowly as he glanced down at a platter with ten miniature green brains arranged in a circle; his stomach turned a little. "Did you have to make them look so realistic?"

"They're made of lime green Jello," Linda replied, smiling, "hollowed out and filled with raspberry jam."

"And what does that have to do with Doctor Who?" Clark asked, wincing as he looked away.

"They're the brains of Morbius," Linda replied cheerfully.

"Lovely," Clark muttered.

"And that is a Lady Cassandra cheese pizza," Linda said, ignoring him as she pointed to a rectangle-shaped pizza with olive eyes and red pepper lips in the center, "and that's 'Bowties Are Cool' pasta salad," she nodded at a large bowl filled with bowtie noodles, cherry tomatoes, and grated parmesan cheese, drizzled with Italian dressing, "fish fingers and custard—"

"You really think your friends are going to eat fish sticks in vanilla pudding?" Clark interrupted.

"Who knows," Linda replied, shrugging before rattling off the rest of the menu as she pointed to each dish, "gelatin Atraxi eyeballs, Jelly Babies and Jammie Dodgers, marshmallow Adipose, tangerines, bananas, and Dr Who Pepper to drink."

"Okay, the adipose actually look good," Clark said as he grabbed one of the giant marshmallows with a cute little face painted on it; he popped it in his mouth and chewed.

"And thanks for going to London and getting the Jelly Babies and Jammie Dodgers," Linda said.

"Well," Clark replied, smiling, "it's kind of hard to say no to someone who keeps pestering me by saying how she 'couldn't have a proper Doctor Who-themed Halloween party without Jammie Dodgers and Jelly Babies.'"

Linda shrugged and smiled. "Well, I **would** have done it myself," she said, "but I can't exactly fly yet—or cross an ocean on my own."

"Yeah, life's tough," Clark joked. "You get a Doctor Who-themed Halloween party with the props and costumes—including your friends'—completely paid for by Bruce as his way of saying 'hey, I'm not totally paranoid about your sudden appearance on Earth,' and Mom and Dad not only **approve** it but let you out of the house with **that** costume on, but you still can't leave the continent without a chaperone."

"With that kind of humor," Linda replied, smiling, "you should book a tour." She stood on her tiptoes to kiss her cousin's cheek. "And thanks, Clark."

"I can't even tell you what I'm thinking right now."

Clark and Linda looked over and saw Dick Grayson standing just inside the open barn doors. He wore a light blue long-sleeved oxford shirt, red suspenders, charcoal work pants, black boots, and charcoal, double-breasted wool blend long coat, unbuttoned; a replica vortex manipulator was wrapped around his left wrist. His hair was styled to the side and slightly mussed up, and he grinned at the cousins.

"Maybe not, but I can find out easily enough," Clark replied, amused as Dick walked over.

"Captain Harkness," Linda replied, folding her eyes and shifting her weight to her left leg. "I see you've arrived."

"Miss Pond," Dick replied as he looked her up and down. "I see **you** have legs."

"Keep that gaze above the neckline, Captain," Clark jokingly warned.

"Don't worry, Clark," Linda said, tugging on the back bottom of her skirt. "This thing rides up so much that there is no way I'm wearing a skirt again." She glanced over Dick's shoulder and stopped in mid-tug as she stared. Clark and Dick looked over toward the doors as the rest of Linda's friends—dressed in authentic Doctor Who costumes—entered the barn.

Gar's Thomas Kincade Brannigan costume from 'Gridlock' was so authentic that Linda briefly wondered if he'd used his abilities for a bit of a 'boost,' while Mattie's Martha Jones costume was the simplest: scrubs and doctor's white coat. Andy had decided to come as Madame Vastra, while Cutter dressed as the Eleventh Doctor. Buzz was a contemporary Master, and Wally came as a Dalek.

"Wow, you look great," Mattie said as she and Andy came over to her while the boys, including Dick, converged on the food table.

"So do you guys," Linda replied. She glanced over at the table, furrowing her eyebrows as the boys grabbed plates and started piling them high with food; Clark blanched as Buzz and Wally actually sampled the fish fingers and custard. "Where're Dick and Jimmy?"

"Standing over there," Andy replied, pointing toward the barn doors. The girls and Clark glanced over and saw Jimmy and Dick Malverne standing just inside the entrance. Jimmy was dressed as Rory, the Last Centurion (complete with prop sword), while Dick had come dressed as the Tenth Doctor (complete with glasses and sonic screwdriver.) Both teenagers just stared at Linda, eyebrows raised, eyes wide, and mouths slightly open.

"Linda," Dick said, his voice squeaking a little.

"Legs," Jimmy replied, dumbfounded.

Clark rolled his eyes. "Oh, brother," he muttered softly.

"On second thought," Linda replied, ignoring her cousin as she smiled slightly, "I might start wearing skirts more often."

"Linda, why did you make us watch this?!" Mattie said loudly as she stared at the large video projected on the side of the barn. She and the others sat on blankets spread on the ground, plates of food in front of them, but no one ate as they watched the scene in 'Blink' where Larry and Sally were trying to escape the advancing Weeping Angels.

"Because it's fun," Linda replied, her voice wavering slightly as she sat between Dick Malverne and Jimmy; her eyes stayed fixed on the video, her heart pounding. She had seen this episode before, but it never failed to scare the daylights out of her—the very reason it was a perfect Halloween episode.

"Linda?" Dick said softly.

"Huh?" Linda asked, distracted.

"You sure you're not scared?" Dick asked.

"Pretty sure," Linda replied. "Why?"

"Because you haven't let go of my hand since the first Weeping Angel showed up," Dick answered.

Linda slowly glanced down and saw her hand wrapped around Dick's. Feeling her cheeks grow hot, she started to let go, but Dick quickly stopped her.

"It's okay," he said softly, smiling a little bit. "Just wanted to make sure **you're** okay."

"I'm fine," Linda replied, returning the smile before looking back at the screen. After a few moments, she slowly glanced down at her other side and saw her fingers intertwined with Jimmy's; she looked up at him, but he continued to watch the video, almost as if he was oblivious to what was going on.

Linda stared at him for a few seconds, then she went back to watching the movie. The young girl quickly became so enthralled by the program that she completely missed the brief glance Jimmy gave her, his eyes twinkling with amusement, before he went to watching the rest of the episode.

THE END


End file.
